Sightless Dreaming
by Shahrezad1
Summary: Bunnymund spends most of the year gardening and taking care of the "egg plant" fields. But when the buds start dying, it's time to turn to an expert. Even if said expert is a mortal human. BunnymundXOC
1. Sunlight Calls

**Sightless Dreaming**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: Bunnymund spends most of the year gardening and taking care of the "egg plant" fields. But when the buds start dying, it's time to turn to an expert. Even if said expert is a mortal human. BunnymundXOC

Disclaimer: To assume that I own any of these characters is also to assume that I actually know what I'm doing with them. –laughs weakly- _Right._ Wish me luck.

~/~/~

Chapter 1: Sunlight Calls

"_Sandman sends children dreams that help their wishes come true, for a wish always begins with a dream." –ROTG Wiki: Sandman_

E. Aster Bunnymund smiled in his sleep as golden radiance tickled his eyelids, long ears twitching in a mix of released dreams and hopeful visions. One foot twitched, then two, as the Guardian of Hope imagined arms wrapped around him, his mother's loving presence reanimated only in slumber. Sandy brought only the most pleasant dreams to the Guardians, heartening his fellow spirits against the onslaught of nightmares, and so it was that within those hours he let his defenses fall. Allowing himself to remember what it had been like before…

Before the massacre, before he abruptly became the last of his kind. His warren was dotted with Pooka of every shape and size within his mind's eye, although having no identifiable faces, only relationship connections from kin to kin. He knew that somewhere out there the rest of his family was waiting for him, however, Aster couldn't seem to stir from the grass and the welcome rest she offered.

But the soft nose rubbing tenderly against the markings on his forehead shifted somewhere, turning from damp and triangular, a rabbit's nose, to something smoother within his imaginings. And the comforting hold was not quite a motherly embrace anymore (he couldn't quite put his finger on the difference, but it had definitely changed), moving from brushing the fur on his shoulder back and forth to carefully tracing his face, as though memorizing features.

Aster responded instinctively, never thinking to ponder the change, only burrowing his head deeper into the refuge their shoulder proffered. And when the sun began tugging on him more insistently he let the vision dissolve into a feeling of blinking, stretching contentment.

It took him a while to get to that point, despite having always risen with the sun. The bunny supposed that it was a holdover from his time as a mortal being, that innate sense of daylight coming on. Its golden glow inched across the floor on tiptoe now, silent and welcoming, and much like hope itself it warmed first his burrow, the dry reeds and woven blankets which made up his nest illuminated as though on fire, before centering on him. His lungs filled with air, as though life itself was breathing into him, welcoming the 6'1" rabbit into a bright new day.

They'd all been called to their position by the Man in the Moon, an unvarying relationship, but it seemed sometimes as though Aster's true tie was to the sun, a motherly presence of joy and affection. North, Toothiana, and Sandy all worked the night shift (it was always nighttime somewhere, he rationalized), so he guessed that their increased affinity related to that, but he was summoned to his vocation in the early hours.

Those silent minutes after wakefulness when nothing could distract or disarm and there was only…peace. Serenity. Careful reflection. When the world spoke and you couldn't help but listen to its gentle whisperings.

It would be a good day, he decided with slow-waking optimism. Nothing could harm or change that.

~/~/~

The earth never judged, its loamy scent rising up and filling her lungs. The wet soil crumbled between bare hands, finding a home between creases and shorn fingernails, while her knees were quickly becoming damp with the slight morning chill.

Even the prickling of her skin in reaction to the cold was a welcome distraction, familiar scents and textures to balance out the remnants of her dream. A golden silhouette in the place of her usual nighttime darkness. Softness and heat had soaked into her skin as the brushed fingertips over what seemed like a fur coat, a face breathed heavily into the crook of her shoulder, heavy with import and fitting her like a puzzle piece.

She'd had enough control over the dream to move her hands to a face, to try and memorize it. But in waking she couldn't retain her read, only remembering something about thick eyebrows and feathery chops.

The dream had been bittersweet, ending eventually, and in waking the aching loneliness she'd felt was held in contrast to the hope elicited. A false kind of hope, really, as she was sure that that kind of adoration wasn't in her future.

No, it had just been a subconscious wish, manifested in her dreams in an attempt to fill an emotional void of need. To torture her during her daylight hours and leave her hollowly bereft.

She hardly noted the drops of water as they fell, glittering, to moisten the plant she held in her hands. Never mind the fact that there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and her greenhouse didn't have a skylight.

~/~/~

Sanderson Mansnoozie blinked as he watched the Dream take form on its own, then split in two before he could get a good look at it. The first landed almost immediately within the land below him. The second half, however, took some hours before reaching its second destination, being on the opposite side of the globe.

By the time it was done and he'd received information regarding to whom and where it had went, he'd forgotten what had made him curious in the first place. Instead taking a well-deserved nap.

~/~/~

AN: Um, well, I can honestly say that I feel like I'm a little rusty. It's been a little while since I've worked on anything large-scale, due to life issues, so I guess you could say that this is going to be a bit of an experiment.

The incentive for writing, interestingly enough, is actually driven by an observation. I noted that while there are quite a few lovely BunnymundXOC stories out there, most of them involve a somewhat young OC love interest. (Which is okay. –shrugs and smiles- I enjoyed reading them and they provided lots of fun inspiration.)

Being 26 myself, however, I thought that I might try something a little more…age-appropriate, I guess? I'm estimating Aster to be physically in his 30's, so played with the idea of matching him up with someone his "own" age. Someone who could be a friend, first and foremost, and maybe something more later on down the line (eventually). Also, I imagined that it might be fun to break from the plot tradition of a Spirit/Guardian/Pooka OC insertion.

**Short summary:** I just want to try something different. :) We'll see where it takes me.

Let me know if I make any mistakes. At this point I only know as much about Bunnymund's past as I've found online, but I will be receiving a few of the books in the mail sooner rather than later. Still, throw me a line if I'm doing something wrong. –smiles-

*To TheManyVoices: Speaking of me making mistakes (-laughs cheerily-) thank you for pointing out the edit! :D I really appreciate it and fixed the problem as soon as I could. ^^


	2. Hard Times

**Sightless Dreaming**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: Bunnymund spends most of the year gardening and taking care of the "egg plant" fields. But when the buds start dying, it's time to turn to an expert. Even if said expert is a mortal human. BunnymundXOC

Disclaimer: To assume that I own any of these characters is also to assume that I actually know what I'm doing with them. –laughs weakly- _Right._ Wish me luck.

~/~/~

Chapter 2: Hard Times

_"Then I thought, 'Wouldn't it be much worse if life were fair?' And all the terrible things that happen to us come because we actually deserve them. So now I take great comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of the universe." –_Marcus,"A Late Package from Avalon_," Babylon 5, Season 3_

Something was wrong with the flowers. He stared at their fragile, drooping stalks in frozen denial, the arc of his spine straightening slowly into something robot. The flowers were sick…_and it was spreading._ Typically an abnormal frost could cause some characteristic wilting, but the fact of the matter was that _there was no frost._ Human embodiment or otherwise. The grass was still green, the trees and vines which made up the warren valley were as hearty as ever, but the "Egg Plants" themselves were wilting, their edges raw and ragged. Round, black patches were starting to appear on the leaves and stems, and the flower petals had developed a downy, white layer of spores. He'd even dared pull apart one of their buds to check on the googie inside and its surface had been mottled with dark, sunken spots, starting just under the shell.

Cradling one long specimen of his life's work in a broad paw, the man-sized rabbit bounded for his burrow, the hole in the ground more than just an abode. He'd hollowed out the area over the course of hundreds of years until what was once a single room had become a series of reinforced tunnels, similar to the rest of the fortress-like warren he'd created in his heyday. Stone had been rolled into place to create sturdy walls and roman arches, their forms etched and painted with mosaics chronicling a long lifetime of events.

But he didn't have time to examine the fading images, lichen and moss grudging wallpaper even in the depths of his private quarters, always busy with other things. Nor did he note how overlong the carpet of grass was within his dwelling, springing back up as soon as he had passed. Instead Aster made his way to his far-off study, ancient writing tablets displayed on ascending blocks of stone. Books—bound and loose-leaf—were presented upon more modern bookshelves, their levels carved of honeyed wood and engraved in a series of artistic swirls and symbols. Bearing meanings only known to him and the spirits of a nonexistent brotherhood.

A series of empty vessels sat in the corner, stained with magic and chemicals, along with an intricate, if dusty, chemist's set and a birch wand. He kept all of them entirely separate from the devices he used for infrequent cooking, preferring his food fresh. Chocolate, however, was another matter entirely, and resided in both locations for eating and experimenting purposes.

Light filtered through a sugar-glass skylight while rolled beeswax candle stubs sat scattered between rows and rows of vegetable tonics and herbal potions, glass bottles knotted closed with bits of rope and magic mixing with the plants within. Chocolate for every occasion (literally) was tagged and cataloged in a series of boxes, characteristics of each noted in abbreviations made up of a rainbow of colors.

The rabbit tossed a few of the all-purpose vials down onto a stone ledge-slash-countertop, just in case, and was minutely grateful when nothing broke despite his anxiety-driven actions. Then he was flipping open an old druidic journal, absently pinching a pair of Pince-Nez spectacles on at the same time. He didn't want to miss anything as he scanned through ancient tomes of information.

There were even a few volumes that Mr. Qwerty had missed eating in the process of turning from Santoff Claussen's resident glowworm librarian to Katherine's magical book.

But nothing was bearing fruit. Bunnymund threw down a notebook and scrawled out whatever felt pertinent, the sun shifting in the sky from a golden hue to marmalade orange and then a purplish plum, but nothing was coming. A few scientific sketches of the appearance of the disease were put on paper and then he was slamming the volumes closed, setting his glasses on the counter haphazardly and readying himself for travel. The pad of yellowing paper was tossed into an over-the-shoulder pouch and he thought about donning his green cloak for old time's sake, a pale imitation to the one he'd once lost, but ultimately decided against it.

For all that it would keep him warm in his next destination, it would just get in the way as he traveled. And the speed was of the essence.

~/~/~

"Whaddaya mean meh plants aren't important?" The words were snarled across the workshop, heavy accent growing heavier as it echoed through wooden hallways and across an assortment of tables, whose occupants were hard at work. A few of the newer fellows winced at the noise and edged away, but their older counterparts kept working, whittling and painting to their own internal tune.

"I am merely saying your holiday has whole half year—why are you now worrying?"

"Because my plants. Are. _Dying!_ Don't you get it? In half a year there won't be anything _to have_ a holiday over!"

"Bah, you are only worrying over little frost. It is winter, is it not?"

"Not, yet, it ain't! And Frost has _nothin'_ tae do with this, North. It's-it's, well, I don't rightly know _what_ it is, but it looks like a virus or a fungus or some sort of parasite," his voice took on a desperate edge and Phil, standing close by as soon as he'd heard of the rabbit's impromptu arrival, was ready to play intermediary if need be, "I'm mechanically-minded, remember? Give me a puzzle, I can build it. But this…"

Desperate, grasping silence paid tribute to the fact that scientist of ages was at a loss, having spent more time frantically keeping up with the shifting "Earthlings" (once only a mild curiosity) than his own work. His tools were dusty, his staff shelved. It was humbling to admit, but for the second time in a year he didn't know what to do—how to save the very thing which defined him these days.

It wasn't as though he could ask Mother Nature, either, what with _that_ convoluted relationship. Phil nodded in sympathy, remembering to himself.

"And besides, the warren doesn't _get_ frost—it's made up of eternal springtime."

A springtime he'd taken for granted, it sounded like. But the toy maker had already turned toward bigger and better things.

"Yes, yes," the red-clad Guardian seemingly waved him away, and Phil winced despite himself at the tone, "then Jack is having little fun, yes?"

"_Jack having-?!_ By crikey, North, you make it sound like the destruction of _my googies_ is just the result of a mindless prank!"

"Plants are not toys," the bearded man stated in a congenial sort of dig, "surely they will grow back, yes?"

"They're the same plants I've always had, you great galah! They're not supposed to die, they're…they're an extension of _me_ an' _the warren!_"

"Then maybe you are sick?" was his practical response, and the yeti could hear his employer slap a hand to his companion's forehead, as though checking for a temperature, "ah, your fur hides your sickness. You must see Phil before leaving."

"_I'm not sick!_" the Easter Bunny practically shouted, shaking the globe outside on its pedestal and halting the progression of the yetis' work. But only for a moment, as they all had a deadline to meet, "will ya just…look at what I wrote down, already?"

North sighed heavily and his right-hand-snowman sighed with him, only in exasperation at the two immortals' behavior.

"Look, I can see you are very upset. But I am also _very busy_. There is only four months left till Christmas, and I have to invent new toys for enjoyment. Pop them into childs' heads for wanting, yes? Come back later when I have more time. Say—January? Or ask Catrina Calavera and Allan Tide for help, they are preparing to enter world."

Aster's feet pounded the ground with his ire, and Phil knew without a doubt that the anger was probably rolling down furred shoulders to seethe in a boiling steam-engine of rage, "I came to you because…because…argh! Look, I just want to know what's happening to my _eggs!_ It's itchin' 'neath my skin and I just sense that it's going to get worse if we don't deal with it now."

"Be calm, my old friend-."

"Some'un's sabatoging meh googies!"

"But who would want to do that?"

Peeking through the half-open doorway, the yeti spied the exact moment when Aster scowled up at North's bemused, wide-eyed expression and without having to be told he winced behind his furry mustache of grey.

It went without saying that North believed that people were inherently pure at heart—he was an excellent example of that, despite his maraudering youth. And, in fact, it had saved him from being turned into a stone elf like his former men (who, even now, were still in a half-changed state). But the Pookan had personally experienced what it was like to be targeted by an unfeeling, outside source.

Pitch was an example of that.

"That's what ahm gonna find out. With or without yer help, mate."

~/~/~

AN: I'll admit it, I wrote Aster's home with a combination of a Hobbit hole and the tunnels from the movie in mind. Still, it was fun. :)

Also, to all those that think some of the characterization of Bunnymund is inaccurate…sorry. –sheepish smile- I'm trying to combine his personality from the books and the film, and it's coming off as an absent-minded scientist who hasn't been able to tend to his studies since the turn of the century due to a preoccupation with other tasks.

Also, Bunnymund really is a hermit and I wanted to emphasize that, because like it or not it's a pretty strong character trait after spending 364 days of the year being antisocial. _"…he kept to himself and liked it that way, but his animal instincts told him that, like it or not, he would once again be asked to help save the world he had so carefully cut himself off from." –E. Aster Bunnymund and the Warrior Eggs at the Earth's Core!_

On the flip side, I only have a few of the books so far. So if anything's wrong (including the description of his home) I really do apologize. But I'm trying to work with what I have. :)

Mother Nature: spoilers, sweetie. Read the books, then you'll find out.

Catrina Calavera and Allan Tide are in reference to the Dia de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead, and Halloween, which used to be All Hallows' Eve, respectively.

Catrinas are elegant skeletons, dressed up and painted beautifully. Calaveras are poems or works of art with a skull theme, usually attributed to someone that has passed on. The Dia de los Muertos is an awesome holiday—check it out if you get the chance. :D

All Hallow's Eve can be connected to "Allantide," which is a Cornish festival, among a few others. I decided on Allantide rather than Samhain, despite the fact that both can be broken into names ("Allan Tide" "Sam Hain"), due to the fact that Samhain is a bit darker in nature and Allantide is more kid friendly. ("The Guardians of Childhood" et cetera, et cetera)

I figure that Catrina and Allan work together for their holidays, and maybe even have a "thing" for one another. :) I'm such a romantic…

Also, my Author Notes are super-long. –sighs in self-aimed ire-


	3. Old People

**Sightless Dreaming**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: Bunnymund spends most of the year gardening and taking care of the "egg plant" fields. But when the buds start dying, it's time to turn to an expert. Even if said expert is a mortal human. BunnymundXOC

Disclaimer: To assume that I own any of these characters is also to assume that I actually know what I'm doing with them. –laughs weakly- _Right._ Wish me luck.

~/~/~

Chapter 3: Old People

"_When you're dreaming with a broken heart  
The waking up is the hardest part  
You roll outta bed and down on your knees  
And for the moment you can hardly breathe  
Wondering was she really here?  
Is she standing in my room?  
No she's not, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone..."_

_ -John Mayer_

"You're never going to hook up with a bloke looking like that."

The words, _and it begins again_, were shelved immediately and replaced with a shrug, "I work on a farm, Hahona. Nice duds and print dresses aren't exactly practical in my line of work."

Her sister said nothing against the hum of the car engine and, turned as she was toward the window, Ahu imagined her younger woman looking on in concern. It was almost comforting, the degree of time her kin spent on worrying about her love life…or lack thereof. But in situations like these, full of long, dragged out, _nagging_ moments, her sister's love became a nuisance.

Thankfully the Center wasn't far from where they were. Planted next to the University, the old brick building was a steady presence on the hill, surrounded by campus offshoots and church buildings that were older than the two of them combined. A bevy of trees bracketed the building like stalwart soldiers, their leaves just starting to turn toward autumn.

It was these, just a handful of the city's sea of trees, as well as the mountain pass above them, which brought on a sort of crispness which filled Ahu's lungs and sharpened her senses. It was a soothing caress of farewell after a long, sticky summer filled with the usual mix of mosquitoes and cow manure.

As well as the first sign of her work's busy season. The corn was nearly her height now, the summer vegetables ready for harvest. And it was time to start on her winter work. Ahu looked forward to the increase with a kind of frenzied dedication, her calloused fingers itching to bury themselves within the soil.

Hahona's words brought her down to a less friendly kind of earth.

"I'm just concerned for you, is all. You're alone most of the time and you're snowed under work more often'n not. Kai keeps going off that you've gone bush on us."

"This is rubbish, then?"

Hahona heaved a heavy sigh and threw in one last, pointed dig, "you know what I meant. Visiting the elderly doesn't count."

"And if I happen to find one who's filthy rich and doesn't mind having someone like me for a wife, what then?" she remarked with a certain cheerful optimism, tongue in cheek. But the younger woman was having nothing for it.

"Then we get your head checked before you do something stupid. Especially if there's any 'minding you' involved—I wouldn't throw anyone at you that couldn't keep up with your pace, eh?"

The comment was made with a small degree of reprimand, Ahu possessing her own line of emotional self-defense in the form of her sister (even against her own negativity). But there was just enough humor in it to lighten the interaction, leaving the two females to sit together in peace. When she set out to go Hahona clasped her hand, once, and bussed her on her cheek, as per usual. Then the younger woman handed her what was sure to be a sack lunch.

"You don't have to mother me, you know. I am a grown woman," she remarked with a mix of humor and sheepish appreciation. She actually _had _forgotten to grab something for the midday meal, though she wouldn't admit it.

Hahona shrugged, and her dark curls, heavy and thick, brushed against the hand Ahu had placed on her shoulder.

"I'm a teacher. I mother everyone."

It was a true enough statement so the latter let it drop, turning away in a silent farewell.

The walk to the Center followed custom, Ruru padding along docily behind her, blue eyes intelligent as the taller of the two counted out steps by way of habit. Juliana sat at the desk, greeting them both with cheerful familiarity before leading the duo to where Esme was.

Then careful, paper-thin hands were reaching out for her own across the table, their gentle wrinkles soft and cool underneath the visitor's sturdy pair, which she lightly rested on top. Esme's shook only slightly in acknowledgement of her increased life experience, but they were sure as she began signing beneath the visitor's palms, her blindness only a partial obstruction.

They closed their eyes simultaneously out of habit, although neither could have known it.

_Met any men lately?_

The words were butterfly fluttered beneath her hands, fluttering and lighthearted. Still, she resisted the urge to groan. Not her, _too._

_Are you and my sister taking notes from one another? _The younger of the two signed back, to which Esme responded with a simple, back and forth spelling of, "H-a, H-a."

_ She's getting on your case too, then? Wise woman. You've only got so many birthing years left in you._

_ You sound like my father._

Which is where the conversation took an abrupt turn, deliberate on both of their parts.

_Anything new?_ Esme asked with all the eagerness of a shut-in gossip, and Ahu couldn't really fault her for her curiosity. In the "Western Center for the Deaf" half of all communication involved being able to see what your opposite was "saying" via body language. Blind Esme was at a disadvantage on that account, her Usher's Syndrome complicating life further.

But communication wasn't entirely impossible; certainly two individuals could sign into one another's hands using the Tactile American Sign Language, but the connection she and her young visitor shared was one of mutual experience. Which somehow made a difference.

She hesitated a moment before responding.

_Nothing much,_ she answered half-truthfully. Esme reached up to squeeze her fingers tightly at the lie, then went on to talk again, _you hesitated. What's wrong?_

The younger woman sighed and removed both hands for a moment to run a hand over the tangled, curly mass that was her hair.

_I just…the garden is fine, so is the Heritage Park. The pumpkins are coming in nicely, just like everyone was hoping and…_

_It's about a man, isn't it?_

The gardener had to laugh, _No, Esme. At least…not a real man, anyway._

_Yes?_

_I dreamed my mother came…and then my dream changed and I was hugging a man. I remember…softness. Warmth. Devotion. And then I woke up, which made it worse._

A combination of signs described her feelings, resulting in what was akin to emotional devastation. "Feel-Upset inside-Empty."

Esme clasped her hands in understanding and comfort.

_Anything else?_ The old woman prompted, although in ASL it came off as a general gesture to continue elaborating.

Ahu hesitated, her solitary nature pressuring her not to say anything. But then again…it was Esme. The matron had never shared any of her secrets before.

_I…I did touch his face,_ she admitted.

_Yes, and?_ Her old friend was practically bouncing with eagerness.

_And I think he had a beard and long mutton chops. They reached his jaw,_ she described the strange facial hair as best she could, finger-spelling 'hair' and then lifting the other woman's hands to her own cheeks. The elderly woman shook with laughter before motioning Ahu to go on.

_His regular hair was thick. He had a fur coat on._

_Are you sure you didn't dream of Ruru, then?_ Esme teased, form and hands the physical embodiment of humor. In seeming response to her question the large Husky shifted a little beneath the young woman's chair, bringing forth a smile to both their faces.

_That might be. I don't usually like hairy men. _Then, before the sixty-year old could ask about the kind of men that she _did_ like, the girl continued. _It just seems so strange, especially to be dreaming about my mother now. Her anniversary isn't until spring._

Her companion's shoulders moved into a shrug, shifting the hands her own now lay beneath, _your people believe in ancestors giving advice _("family-before-past")_. Maybe she's telling you something?_

_Warning me to stay away?_ She retorted wryly.

_If so, then how did the dream make you feel?_

That gave Ahu pause, which was enough for Esme to prompt her again, hands a steel trap.

_YES?_

_Adored. It made me feel adored. And cherished._

_See, then it couldn't have been all that bad._

The younger of the two was glad that she hadn't mentioned how he'd burrowed his face into her shoulder, warm breath and cold nose flush against the skin just below her ear. Nor even the feel of his arms securely wrapped around her, Ahu's hands circling his neck to cradle a heavy, furred head.

Furred? Where had that come from?

Blinking furiously, the young woman forced her mind to focus on the movements of her companion's fingers, the widow nattering about her son's experiences as interpreter to a diplomat. It seemed as though Esme's youngest was always off on some daring adventure, so she listened attentively, waiting as was expected for her to blatantly suggest that they date for what was the billionth time.

But Ahureway's answer was always the same: that she didn't want to inhibit his ability to go on grand adventures and do things like skydiving and parasailing. Besides, she had her responsibilities here to worry about, with both the Heritage Park's garden and her infrequent lectures at the University taking up her time.

Esme patted her hands in loving understanding, letting the issue go as she always did, and Ahu made her way toward the exit with Ruru pacing just before her. A goodbye to the secretary was followed by the intent to pick up groceries, the tapping staccato of her steps keeping time.

The wind greeted her again as she expertly treaded pavement, convivial and cool. It danced around her fingertips and teased the tendrils of her heavy curls, billowing the mass up like it was a thundercloud. She had to laugh as even her Husky nipped at the zephyr before returning to the important duty of walking down the path.

There were moments when she felt as though someone or something was whispering in her ears on the wind, the faint echoes of childish laughter causing her lungs to well within her chest and an unconscious smile to tumble across her cheeks. It made her want to dance in the old way and she satiated the desire with a few hummed bars of an aria she'd heard recently on the radio.

If anything the breath of sky released a childish sound of disgust, to which she could only laugh, disturbing a flock of birds to her right.

Truly, something was in the air.

Each sidewalk crag and crease was familiar beneath well-worn shoes, but so too was the switch to the metal ting of the supermarket entryway. Then it was the wash of canned atmosphere which came over her as swooshing doors swept open.

Longtime familiarity bred many things, including knowledge of the store's interior, and Ahu passed down aisles with unerring accuracy. She knew the exact location of each item she required, fingers dusting jars and containers with seeming idleness, and her take was mostly that of dairy products and processed foods she couldn't grow herself. Chatting amiably with the teller after having deposited her load was the closing statement to an already fairly pleasant day.

"Sorry Miss, but…your card was declined."

The apologetic tones of Billy the-cashier-used-to-be-a-bagger cut off warm thoughts and left her blinking.

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't catch that."

She could sense his discomfort, the rustle of cloth mixing with a bit of a mumble. "Um…do you have another form of payment?" It was the politically correct affirmation that, _yes, her card had been rejected,_ leaving her reeling for a moment. But Ahureway switched to cash smoothly enough that he probably had no inkling of her perturbation, the emergency funds dog-eared for identification.

The wind had picked up by the time she left with plastic sack in hand, its brisk bite no longer friendly, but finding the bus stop took little outside assistance so she attempted to ignore it and her lack of jacket. She couldn't discount Ruru's unease, however, the emotion trickling through despite the control her furred friend maintained. If anything the dog's feelings set something off in her, a kind of ominous anxiety which was confirmed when Mr. Nguyen, the bus driver, informed her that her bus pass was about to expire.

Similarly Sue, the owner of _The Heritage Ranch and History Park_, spoke with a heavy tone similar to a death toll as she handed off Ahu's mail.

"It looks like a hospital bill," the fifty-ish woman said in an apologetic hush as she shakily put the kettle on the carefully maintained cast-iron stove, its clatter a momentary distraction. _The Heritage Park_ was half living museum, busy during the day with a hive of skilled reenactors, and half a working farm. The latter aspect was the young woman's domain. Certainly the vast corn field was maintained by way of some assistance but the garden had been planned carefully by the skilled female.

Just like the aged gardener before her Ahu lived on the property, her apartment made up what was once the cellar of the old, restored farmhouse. Which of course meant that her mail went through the hands of both her employer and landlady first.

Ahu sighed but smiled at her just the same with the hand now bearing the envelope, never mind that it was more like a grimace, "thank you, Sue."

"You're welcome. And please let me know when you'd like us to winterize your rooms."

"I will, thank you."

Frustration itching along her senses, Ahureway left with a swift nod. Anything to be out of the house; to be out of doors. The tourists hadn't quite left yet but she decided that it was time to get to work, for her own sake if not the plants'. Tugging on Wellington gumboots and letting Ruru wander freely, unharnessed, the earth soothed her hurts like a balm.

She was normally given to wearing gloves, a precaution against thorns and snags she couldn't see. Today, however, Ahureway instead crumpled moist soil between the creases and curves of her fingers, feeling it catch underneath her nails with the unrestrained smile of one finding solace. If anything, working with plants was akin to coming home, the home that she had left behind seventeen years ago. It reminded her that no matter where she went there it would be, welcoming her with open arms and friendly familiarity.

Basil mixed with garlic, chive, and parsley filled her breath as she passed the long beds, her hands ghosting over the round forms of ripe tomatoes, cucumbers and eggplant. The squash and pumpkin in the open sod expanse beside them were almost ripe, but while she would be harvesting the one fairly soon the other would remain in reserve until Halloween. A full third of _The Heritage Park's_ revenue was made in October alone, selling pumpkins for Jack'O Lanterns, and Ahureway maintained a solemn sort of pride at her part in that process. Still, it was yet another sign that the farm was nearing its time of yield. Then she would be able to shift her focus toward winter vegetables, the greenhouse already half-prepped for an early planting.

There was a certainty in gardening that she couldn't find anywhere else, not in her work as a guest speaker nor even in the social life her sister tried so hard to develop for her. Ahu's friendship with Esme was the closest thing in regards to emotional satisfaction, a balanced relationship in which there was as much give as take.

And what she'd found in the dream had just been that: a dream. The concept that there was even someone like that out there for her was a ludicrous one. She might as well focus on life as she knew it, full of responsibility and financial expectations, instead of relying on fanciful, unlikely imaginings.

It was just better this way.

Thoughts caught up in the future, she didn't even register the disturbing presence until the shift of a foot on dirt stilled her actions. And then she was all business.

"Can I help you with something?" her words were polite and succinct, a worker's question. It was the kind of response which stated, _'If you've found me then you must be lost. No one is supposed to be over here.'_ Normally she might be more favorably verbal, but not today. Not with the wind turning cold on the onset of autumn, her thoughts a sky of thunderclouds.

The individual started audibly, their whole form jumping back and landing heavily for a moment.

Ahureway never looked up.

~/~/~

AN: I actually visit a retirement home pretty often. :D It's great times, and I love each and every one of them. Esme is based off of a whole bunch of people that I know. There's Catherine and Alicia ("Ah-lee-SEA-ah" Spanish pronunciation) in general personality and independence.

Esme's blindness/deafness is based off a German woman named Erna, who was as a child lived through WWII and whom in her old age sees little and hears less. She's a sweetheart. ^^

Esme's desire to marry Ahu off is totally Iris in a go. Regrettably, Iris's short term memory only lasts a few minutes. She once asked me how old I was (26 years old) four times in a go, and asked me if I had a boyfriend three times. :)

And Ahu and Esme's actual relationship is that of mine and Jill. She's fantastic in every way, shape and form.

All data regarding Tactile Sign Language comes via my roommate, BlueCastle, who is training to become an ASL interpreter. She's awesome, I adore her. Please note, however, that American Sign Language does not have the same sentence structure as English.

The city and "Heritage Park" Ahu lives on are based off of two locations mixed and jumbled together.

Sorry if I got anything wrong, language and culture-wise. :S I'll explain more about it and my choices in the next chapter. :) Also, I apologize for taking so long to post. I'm regrettably dealing with finals right now. D:


	4. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Sightless Dreaming**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: Bunnymund spends most of the year gardening and taking care of the "egg plant" fields. But when the buds start dying, it's time to turn to an expert. Even if said expert is a mortal human. BunnymundXOC

Disclaimer: To assume that I own any of these characters is also to assume that I actually know what I'm doing with them. –laughs weakly- _Right._ Wish me luck.

~/~/~

Chapter 4: Down the Rabbit Hole

_ "But when a young lady is to be a heroine ... [s]omething must and will happen to throw a hero in her way."_  
-Jane Austen, _Northanger Abbey_

~/~/~

Each of the Easter Bunny's tunnels led to a location upon the Earth, the larger passages aimed at continents and the smaller ones for islands and isolated locations. But there was one destination his pathways couldn't reach.

An isle of glittering golden sand, Sanderson Mansnoozie's tiny kingdom wasn't on any map. Formerly a shooting starship, and Sandy the pilot, it had a tendency toward meandering along with his runaway dreams.

Despite these two strikes against him, however, all Bunnymund had to do was pound the ground twice in succession and he was off. The Guardian of Hope could have gone to Tooth for help, but the Fairy Queen was busy enough with her Tooth Fairy armies without his problems to deal with. And Jack…there was no way in Spring he was going to go to that _Galah_. Not that the bunny had anything against him anymore, not after what Frost had done for him last Easter. But experience was needed for something this serious, and Aster had a feeling that Jack would make things worse before they got better.

Running through the depths of his magic path, the rabbit-man could feel the shift in pressure as his passageway tunneled through the ocean's base. There was a hollow, melodious kind of echo there and with an absentminded thought he was reminded of the singing mermaids which made up Sandy's entourage. There used to be more of them, all across the world, but decreased belief had started to wipe them out one by one.

Only in children's dreams did they seem to flourish these days, thus the small band of wheat-gold and auburn-haired women congregated round his old friend like refugees to a benevolent monarch.

It made sense to the Easter Bunny—they had once cared for Sanderson during his 'long sleep,' therefore he was only making good on his debt. But the kind-hearted Sandman probably didn't see things that way; they were merely his friends and companions.

With a leap Aster scrambled out the last few feet of his tunnel, sand scraping backwards the way he'd come. The hasty grab he made for purchase resulted in dreamsand getting in his fur and Bunnymund huffed in irritation at the immediate itch. It didn't help that he had an audience as he shook himself off, either, mermaids and sea creatures tittering for a few short minutes before their expressions shifted to politeness.

Then he was off at a four-legged run along the pebbled path, the sparkling grains of gold he stirred up immediately gravitating toward the greatest sandcastle ever created. Spires swirled upward like spun taffy as they pointed toward a starry sky, the Man in the Moon clearly visible. Meanwhile domes shook as they shifted to reflect Mansnoozie's dreams, bubbling out new rooms as though in anticipation of guests.

A shell theme was reflected in doorways and mosaics while endless conch shells fenced in the floating isle from any wave that dared threaten. These sentinels were more than just decoration, however, echoing with the whispered wishes and dreams of children across the world.

Aster hardly had time to marvel at his friend's abode, however, entering with little fanfare and even less concern for decorum.

Starfish sentries pointed him in the direction he needed to go, earning from him a nod of respect, and then he found himself walking speedily into what had once been a pilot's cockpit, now a bed. A giant clam provided both base and frame while a single plush red pillow became a mattress, the single bolt of color standing out amidst an entire island of blinding yellow.

Sandy blearily blinked up at him from his cushioned throne and Bunnymund was glad that he'd left when he had—resulting in catching the Sandman between shifts, either dawn or dusk depending on which side of the world he'd been visiting.

The other Guardian waved cheerily, a blurry question mark over his head. The Easter Bunny cut right to the chase.

Sliding slightly on the unstable flooring, his expression was even greyer than normal as he said flatly, "meh googies are dying."

_That_ woke the Guardian of Dreams.

An exclamation point replaced his question as Sandy blinked sleep from his eyes, questions flashing faster than Aster could follow. Part of him relaxed at this, that at least _one person_ (other than himself) was taking what had happened seriously, when his companion's repeated question mark and mystified expression caught his attention.

As if to say, 'what happened?'

He braced himself to explain again, starting with a mention of an unexpectedly good dream (startling the Sandman) and then moving on to the plant's illness. The lesions were described with anxious accuracy, the drooping stalks counterpointed with a description of his bruised, lifeless eggs.

Sanderson Mansnoozie's immediate suggestion involved a golden rendition of Mother Earth, her facial features serenely proud and angular. He immediately shook his head in curt rejection, "naw, we can't go tae her after what we did ta Pitch. She'd bury me alive, and there's no tunnelin' outta that."

The shorter fellow's next suggestion involved various past inventions, coming to life around Sandy's head in a burst of hopeful optimism. The Yolking Glass, for one, a two-way communication mirror he'd created for Aliss of Kingsley to use when speaking with her Aunt, the White Queen. All that had resulted in was being caricaturized in Aliss's novelist friend's work. He honestly hadn't seen the girl or her mirror since the 1800's, so shook his head again.

Then there was the Shellicopter, used for searching out Pitch's Fearlings from the air. But unfortunately Nightlight had managed to crash that a long time ago.

The Eggiscope was suggested, too, a tool designed to hold the relic the Easter Bunny had been bequeathed with. It was able to search out or zoom in on anything, but Jack's last prank in the warren had resulted in the engraved metal cracking (and later exploding. Frost had been a large fan of the scientific discovery of nitroglycerin). Aster could have rebuilt the piece; he still had the blueprints and everything, but, much like the fading mosaics in his burrow, he just didn't have the time.

Becoming agitated, Sanderson's expression turned dour and proverbial 'steam' blew from his ears, a frustrated scowl demanding what the Guardian of Hope would have him do, exactly.

The rabbit's mannerisms were agitated, "look, I don't know. I went ta North in the hope he'd come up with somethin', being Ombric's apprentice and all, but all that _Drongo_ did was blow me off with some rubbish about Jack being up to something. I figure if we worked togetha we might be able to puzzle it out."

The stopwatch which appeared above Sandy's head combined with the dramatic jab he sent toward his own bed, pointing at is unmade nature, informed Bunnymund that he just didn't have the time. Despite being the Guardian of Dreams he was allotted a surprisingly small amount of time in which to catch a few winks, the rotating of the planet keeping him constantly busy.

Then the miniature man began making suggestions yet again, jabbing Aster in the stomach as various creations, both his and North's, buzzed around his head in a burst of impatient suggestion.

All were denied with the Easter Bunny's face turning darker and darker with desperation. Until, annoyed, Sandy threw his hands up in the air in one last option.

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and Aster followed dutifully to a side table, a fish tank full of golden carp swimming dreamily in their iridescent, shifting container. Then Sandy was tugging out an object the bunny hadn't seen in years.

"Crikey, is that Mr. Qwerty?" he gaped at the combination of book and glowworm, his old student Ombric's faithful library attendant now a good-sized "Book-Worm." Or a 'tome-worm,' anyway, what with the weight of it. The living volume blinked at him sleepily before smiling a dim sort of beam.

"Well, hello there Gentleman Bunnymund," the living object fluttered awake, pages overlapping like butterfly wings, "what can I help you with?"

He wanted to ask how Sandy had managed to gain possession of Katherine's storytelling book companion (particularly when her work as Mother Goose was so vital), but he didn't have the time. So with a nod of greeting the Easter Bunny went ahead.

"Right. My googie-plants are dying and I need to know why. We'd like to fossick out any visual images which match up with _this_…" he withdrew the damaged flower and immediately Mr. Qwerty began flipping pages, tone determined as he began humming thoughtfully, "…and who might'a done it to them?"

Having partaken of Ombric's entire magical library, the bookworm was renowned for having known everything—fiction, fact, or fiction which became fact—but now he only sounded confused.

Huffing, the book wobbled upon Sandy's nightstand as though shaking a head, "I do admit, this one has left me stumped. It seems that something is blocking me from the information I seek."

Both Guardians exchanged an anxious glance before dodging a look out Sanderson's single large window, where the Man in the Moon's gaze streamed in. But Qwerty wasn't done.

"However, it seems like some alternate information is accessible. Right about…here."

The pages were blank at first until he began reading out loud, and then etchings and words trickled down the parchment in scrolling ink-work, Ombric's hand. Seeing the words left a little bit of a pang in his heart, their old companion having long-since gone the way of the Earth. But he forged his way on, forcing himself to pay attention as a description of something called _Tāngata Whenua _appeared.

'People of the Land,' Aster frowned thoughtfully as the former glowworm droned on, describing how certain people across the world fit into this category. Celts, Aborigines, Hindis, Native Americans and many Pacific Islanders. Sages, spiritualists, and protectors of the Earth. But they were becoming more and more rare in a world of instant gratification and cynical materialism.

They believed that the Earth was a living thing, doing their utmost to retain a connection with the planet. Just like he did.

The Easter Bunny focused hard on the word 'belief,' daring it to disappear on him. Then abruptly it did, a map of the closest real _'Tāngata Whenua,'_ appearing as though summoned. Although this time the illustration was in Katherine's style, the images full of fine details, mostly drawn from memory. He wouldn't have been surprised if she systematically went through the previous wizard's records periodically, updating information as it changed with the seasons.

He was glad that she had, though, for it gave him a destination.

~/~/~

The sun was setting in this part of the world by the time he arrived, somewhere around eight or nine in the evening, and it took a second of orientation before he pinpointed exactly where he was. Mr. Qwerty's map had pinpointed an area somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, but while Katherine—that is, Mother Goose—had always had a talent for illustration, she'd failed to mark the exact town or city for some reason.

So Aster had had to do a little searching on his own. Taking out his own Egg-shaped relic, courtesy of the Man in the Moon, he'd urged it to act like a homing beacon, the jewels on it flickering the closer he got to his destination. When he did tunnel an exit, just outside of the '_Tāngata Whenua_'s immediate vicinity, he was surprised to find himself in the middle of farmland.

Actually, in the middle of a cornfield was probably more like it. But the tall vegetation certainly provided some cover, if the 'Person of the Land' _could_ see him, as Sandy and Mr. Qwerty seemed to think (before the two of them had returned to sleep).

It looked like an Amish community at first glance, a smattering of small cabins, a barn and various fields. The individuals he _did_ see were slowly herding others toward the entrance of the farm, women in voluminous prairie skirts and men dressed up in black. Then he saw the sign.

_The Heritage Ranch and History Park_

Ah. It was a…museum, then? Full of actors? For the first time he noted that the individuals being shepherded to the front were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, cameras around their necks and children skipping through the crowd. While the immediate area didn't seem all that familiar, the mountains did, as was the city beyond.

The skyline was familiar and with an immortal's affinity for time, his memory skipped away toward a sea of Egg hunts, trying to find one that matched. With unexpected swiftness Aster was reminded of a spectacularly well-planned series of Easter Events held by a local University each year, presented on the side of a long hill just outside of the campus. Little ankle-biters tumbling and giggling over one another down the long length of viridian. He normally supplied most of his own eggs, but the University students had taken to doubling the fun by providing additional treats, the green grass practically overrun with eggs.

So that no one went home empty-handed.

The thought made him grin. Bunnymund knew _exactly_ where he was.

Passing carefully through the stalks of corn, the giant man-rabbit scanned the area while glancing at the relic in his hand. But it seemed to have suddenly shut down, power drained or perhaps proximity satisfying his request. Even the smattering of workers was slowly disappearing into vehicles, lessening his chances and yet soothing his crowd-based anxiety.

Several thousand years' worth of hermit-like living could have that effect on a bunny.

The field of corn ended as he came upon squashes and pumpkins, brows furrowed as he aimed for the house itself. Maybe he might find…

"Can I help you with something?"

The question caught him off guard, as did the garden's long planter boxes. With a gasp of pain he found his overlarge foot making abrupt and painful contact.

"_Holy dooley!_" the words slipped out before he could sensor them and, grasping the injured limb.

Then he was stuck staring as a bowed figure in front of him slowly straightened.

The sunset chose at that moment to pierce through the evening air, backlighting the person as they stood. It was a feminine silhouette, long-limbed and graceful, roughly the height of a female of his kind with a halo of opaque hair disfiguring any other details until the light was done shining in his eyes. And he thought…

Well, he thought many things, blinking into the sun and arrested mid-motion as her profile remained in shadow, never looking up. Yet she'd sensed his presence when no other adults, sans past acquaintances and the other Guardians themselves, could.

Something about the situation made him uneasy. He'd been eager enough for aid when it had meant calling on his mates, but this was suddenly different. Plant rot or no, he doubted his choice suddenly, particularly as a tugging of familiarity drew him forward.

And a kind of yearning tried to cut him off at the knees, unfamiliar and unwelcome. He ignored it and continued frowning, first waiting for her reaction to his appearance. After all, if this really was the 'Person of the Land,' he was looking for, then her response would tell him everything.

But she still hadn't made eye contact, hands brushing what he guessed (based by its outline) was a leafy plant.

"I _said_, 'can I help you with something?'" she asked again, sharper this time. And as she did the sun leveled below his blinking eyelevel, leaving black spots behind, "_The Heritage Park_ is closing, you know," the woman informed him of this blandly, her pronunciation of 'park' sounding a bit more like '_pah-k_', "and the gardens are usually off limits. So you might want to bugger off before I call a plod—I mean, a policeman."

The accent was stronger now, familiar as his own backyard, and with the blinking spots gone he could finally see her. Lean legs encased in holey jeans, feet in practical Wellington boots, and a plaid navy blue button-up with sleeves rolled to the elbows. Only her arms and hands were bare, the golden amber brown of her skin a mismatch with the climate she was in. As for her hair it was a mass of black curls, hiding facial features and darker than the coal North gave out at Christmas.

_Tāngata Whenua_.

What in the name of the Moon was a Pacific Islander Earth-Sage doing tucked in the Rocky Mountains?

He spoke without thinking.

"By crikey, you're a fair dinkum Shaky Isles sheila," the worlds blurted out of his lips before he could think to sensor.

The woman's eyes fluttered wide before her form seemed to still, curling into itself like a stone fortress prepping for battle.

"Not for seventeen years, I haven't been," she drawled sharply, "so yeh better be taking yer Aussie ocker self off my land."

~/~/~

AU:

Thank you for the very nice reviews! :D And forgive me for not replying directly or forgetting to reply. :S So I'll respond here, just in case (if I forgot to previously). :)

**Galimatias:** thank you very much! I hope it continues in the direction I'm aiming for. **MidnightShadow07:** I hope that you enjoy it, even if it's not your usual cup of tea. :) **Avatar Aang:** your username rocks! Also, I hope you enjoyed this new chapter. **TheManyVoices:** I know I already thanked you for the editing help, but thank you again! And I hope that you like that I've got planned. *smiles* **Shadowcat012:** your username makes me want to read X-Men fanfiction. XD Also, thank you for the lovely compliment! **Guest (1):** Thank you! I hope that this chapter met expectations. **Guest (2):** Glad you like it! And I'm definitely continuing it, no worries. *grins*

I had to cut this chapter in half. Please forgive me! It's just taking longer than I expected. :S But things should start picking up soon.

Writing the Sandman was an enjoyable challenge, supported by details from his book (aptly named, "The Sandman," by William Joyce. Lovely illustrations).

In the books Aster is quite the inventor (and more than a bit of a snob). William Joyce said that the film is 200 years after the books, so I've tried to tie in the two as much as possible.

Mr. Qwerty is a character from the books, as are Katherine (named after Joyce's daughter, Mary Katherine. She's set to later become Mother Goose) and Ombric (a wizard native to Atlantis. Bunnymund knew him when he was a boy). For those of you who don't 'get' Qwerty's name, look at the first six letters of your standard English keyboard… XD

I realize that I may be dropping too many details from the books, but there is a reason for it: when searching for information I couldn't find much. I also know that not every library carries the stories. So it's my hope that by "dropping" info other writers will be able to use it for their purposes. :)

There are a HUGE number of Pacific Islanders/Polynesians living in mainland United States, and especially the state of Utah. They are known for being incredibly open, family-oriented, and kind. :) I have a lot of friends who are Tongan, Samoan, and one or two that are New Zealander/Kiwi or Hawaiian.

"_Māori often call themselves "__tāngata whenua__" (people of the land), placing particular importance on a lifestyle connected to land and sea. Communal living, sharing, and living off the land are strong traditional values."—_Wikipedia, Maori Culture. Maori are native to New Zealand.

Most of my research regarding Pacific Islanders will be made up of personal experience, online research, and information saved from my _International Culture and Literature_ class. If anything is incorrect, I apologize.

_Galah—fool, silly person. Named after a bird with the same name because of the sounds/actions it makes._

_Drongo—stupid person_

_Fossick—to search for something_

_Holy dooley!—exclamation of surprise. "Good heavens!"_

_Plod—local policeman_

_By crikey—exclamation/mild oath of surprise_

_Fair dinkum-genuine_

_Shaky Isles—New Zealand. Mild nickname used more in Australia than N.Z., referencing their frequent earthquakes._

_Sheila-woman_

_Aussie—Australian_

_Ocker—_(in Australian) _"the archetypal uncultivated Australian male" "an unsophisticated person"_(in New Zealand) _"__The term "__**ocker**__" is used both as a noun and adjective for an Australian who speaks and acts in an uncultured manner, using a broad Australian accent (or Strine)__…Richard Neville defined ockerism as being "about conviviality: comradeship with a touch of good-hearted sexism"._ –Wikipedia, "Ocker."


	5. An Offer Most Unexpected

**Sightless Dreaming**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: Bunnymund spends most of the year gardening and taking care of the "egg plant" fields. But when the buds start dying, it's time to turn to an expert. Even if said expert is a mortal human. BunnymundXOC

Disclaimer: To assume that I own any of these characters is also to assume that I actually know what I'm doing with them. –laughs weakly- _Right._ Wish me luck.

~/~/~

Chapter 5: An Offer Most Unexpected

_ "__The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment."  
-Dorothy Nevill_

~/~/~

_The woman's eyes fluttered wide before her form seemed to still, curling into itself like a stone fortress prepping for battle._

_"Not for seventeen years, I haven't been," she drawled sharply, "so yeh better be taking yer Aussie ocker self off my land."_

~/~/~

The words knocked him flat, spoken sharply as an increased accent belied her statement. Yet still she remained focused on her plants, causing ire and desperation to rise within him. She was ignoring him now, he was sure, the way she was going about her task. And really, she'd been ignoring him from the start, hadn't she?

Who was this mortal, anyway? Treating a six-foot-one rabbit as though he was nothing more than a run of the mill bloke. He opened his mouth to respond but was stopped by what was in front of him.

Her shoulders, raised defensively, dropped just as exhaustion draped itself down her form like a wet blanket. It was an abrupt change from the defensive, cantankerous performance she'd been putting on and Aster stepped back as though having received whiplash.

"Look, it's nothing personal I just…I've had a rough day."

Her pained expression turned his negative emotions to something else. Concern, maybe? Or perhaps empathy as a similar feeling echoed within his chest cavity. He understood rough days. Also, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time when pressured.

"Now you really should leave. Sue doesn't like people lingering, and this area is off-limits anyway. All the gardens are, till October and the pumpkin sales."

"Forgive me, I didn't mean ta-."

She pinched the bridge of her nose as if in pain, "it's fine. Just…leave. The park's closed."

Bunnymund's mouth opened and closed as he desperately tried to fill it, still not sure if this was the person he was looking for, even. But if everyone else had left…and his relic had stopped its search…maybe there was a chance. Maybe _she_ was his chance. After all, he still had his flowers to save. And if she was willing to bend a bit, then maybe he could too.

"I…can understand. I've had one meself, actually. A yakka day. Um, kia ora, by the way," he said belatedly, startling her into silence. To receive such a greeting after his initial rudeness was a bit of a surprise, but he could see her mentally back up at the traditional, even friendly politeness. Although after seventeen years it was likely it wasn't all that familiar anymore he thought with some rueful chagrin.

She slowly responded, as though frozen, "kia ora. Sir."

"No 'Sirs' needed."

"Right. Well, I really have to ask you to leave now. I can feel that the sun's gone down, and they'll be lockin' the gate soon and…"

Her words continued their polite demand, but he was distracted enough not to hear them. _She could 'feel' that the sun had gone done? What was that supposed to…?_

The question remained unasked as the pad of paws caught his ears, fur of the canine variety heavy in his nostrils. A black-patched, white mammoth of a dog came up to her left side then, brushing her knee and hip with comfortable familiarity and Aster watched in confusion and some wary trepidation as her fingers felt the air for the animal's form, reaching out as though she couldn't see what she was searching for until actual contact was made.

The truth of it hit him like one of his own boomerangs.

"You're blind, aren't you?" he breathed, unaware that the words had even been released.

She straightened this time as though she had really been insulted, and if the woman had been a determined figure before now she was practically a stone statue. Athena, ready to strike down all who stood in her way, "actually, I _am_ aware of that fact. Thank you _so much_ for pointing it out."

Sensing her tension, the guide dog beside her also drew itself up and Aster realized with a start that it really was big enough to do some damage. A Siberian Husky, if he guessed correctly, and a certain amount of nervousness quickly broke over him in reminder of his last scuffle with a dog.

Abby, Jamie's Greyhound, had actually gotten in a nip or two, believe it or not.

"N-now, I didn't mean it that way. I just…I was just surprised. Yer reputation precedes ye, but no one said ani'thin' about being blin—," he coughed, cutting himself off deliberately, "well, that."

To be honest, Sanderson and Mr. Qwerty _had_ actually emphasized the opposite—that the likelihood of a _Tāngata Whenua_ seeing him was going to be increased. Well, at least he didn't have to deal with _that_ potential 'freak-out,' as Jack might have termed it.

A long-fingered touch stilled the movement of her four-legged companion beside her as the young woman caught on his deliberate word choice, "my…reputation?"

"Goodo, yes. Ye see, my g-my plants are dying. And I heard…ye might be able to help me."

He offered up the explanation carefully, not knowing the extent of her abilities, whatever they might be. It was possible that she was a full magic user or nothing at all. Then again, she had claimed the land as hers (and ordered him off of it) but the laws for protection of abodes from Spirit-based individuals didn't usually apply to broad expanses, only homes. He would have thought that an Earth-Sage would have known that.

It was also possible that he was completely off his mark, barking up the wrong tree. That she wasn't anything at all. But then why had the relic quit its search?

Her expression had cleared of any previous anger, but had found some sort of neutral confusion, doubt creeping into her words as she sort-of gazed somewhere just over his shoulder, "I'm just a gardener. I'm not sure if I can help you, Sir."

Well. That was both helpful and somewhat of a disappointment. At least she knew her plants, though probably no more'n he did.

Bunnymund swallowed harshly. Truth was, he was tired. He'd spent all his energy trying to rally the troops, first with North and later with the Sandman, and now after having run nearly the length of the world he was no closer to a solution than he had been when he'd first started. Without noticing it the Easter Bunny shifted slightly, but it was enough to make her tense. He sighed then, his own shoulders dropping and in a voice just short of pleading.

"Look, I don't know who else ta turn to. Meh g-flowers, well, meh _tulips_…black patches are appearing on 'em. There are spores and the g-bulbs have dark spots...and…and…"

Bunnymund grasped the air with open paws but she didn't seem to hear him, shouldering the curly mass of her hair over one shoulder. He was minutely distracted by its texture, but no more than that as he withdrew the much-abused stalk he still carried in his pouch. Offering it up to her even though she couldn't see it.

So with desperation he finally said, quietly, sorrow lining each pause, "I heard that…maybe ye had a way with growing things. And I was just hoping…you might have an idea what it could be."

The silence was deafening, his gaze dropping to the ground. She sighed.

"Sounds like Tulip Fire, for it to be munted like that."

His head jerked up, mouth open as he gazed the length between them. With his animal senses he could see the slight murkiness of her eyes reflecting in the moonlight which had come over them. The dark undertone to the irises told him that perhaps she hadn't always blind, though. The bunny waited hopefully for a further response and was presented with her arms folding across her chest, thoughts as contemplative as his had ever been when puzzling something out.

"Which means that your whole crop might be spoiled, since the spores like to spread."

Any hope abruptly died within him.

"Then again, I'd have ta take a shufti at the plants first."

There was an unasked question there, something involving him handing over the specimen and her accepting the role of savior which he had proffered. He could see curiosity in her, fingers itching to figure out what was wrong the way his sometimes did when near mechanized objects. But a part of her still hesitated, until she seemed to let it go with a huff and a roll of her shoulders.

"Alright, what is it you want of me?"

The question came out strangely, which the gardener seemed to realize, looking uncomfortable at her own words. But she didn't take anything back, merely waiting for his reply.

Since she couldn't see anything at all, he allowed himself a full-out grin and a silent thank you to the moon, which was starting to rise, before attempting any serious response. Of course, this was the hard part. He knew what he needed, and of course the importance of the task, but he hadn't realized that he would be dealing with a blind _Tāngata Whenua_. Honestly, he'd been too caught on trying to persuade her to really think of how to continue after that, the whole matter of him being unseen making the situation both more and less complicated. What he said next could make or break the deal.

"I'd be hiring you on as a, sort of, a," he started searching for the world and knew she could hear his floundering, Bunnymund's large verbal pause a clear sign that he was out of this element in this, "a consultant, of a kind. Yeh could call it a consultant. I'll be trying to fix the problem on my end, while you work on it from yers. We'll keep each other abreast of the otha's progress and try to sort it out before it gets worse."

Her eyebrows rose of their own accord, "a blind consultant."

"Honestly, it makes no never mind to me whether you're blind or stark, raving mad 'slong as you can save meh crop, struth. It's a one-a-year deal and is…kind of important. To me, I mean," he fumbled at the end of his impressive rallying statement.

"That makes sense, it being your main product," even if August was a strange time to be growing something like tulips, they both knew. He didn't even attempt to hide a wince at that thought, "you're not having any trouble with your bumper crop then, are you?"

"Bumper crop?" he echoed instinctively and in that second he saw the young woman's face drop.

"Oh, um, nah. They're kept separate, just in case. I do rotate them now and again, course."

The gardener looked relieved, nodding. And if he didn't know any better he would have guessed that she thought he didn't know a thing about plants. Bunnymund didn't know whether to laugh or be insulted. Both responses were probably ill-timed anyway.

"And what do you _do _with the flowers, exactly?"

On one level he knew that she was asking about his occupation, trying to get a feel for this man who approached her as the sun was setting and her place of employment was closed. But on the other it felt as though she was asking _what_ he was, a question which brought him up short.

The first of his titles, that of 'The Easter Bunny,' was something he had to choke back. 'Giant Man-Rabbit' and 'Last of the Pookas' were right out, too.

"Me? Well, ah, um," he grasped on to the most obvious mortal equivalent, searching for his old occupation as a descriptor, "a'm an engineer. A scientist. An artist, even. I raise, um, exotic tulips, I guess you could say. They, um, I guess ye could say that they back the whole operation. Ship 'em world-wide."

Although the last time he'd had the chance to work in any of those fields was further back then he could seem to remember.

The woman nodded as though she'd heard of something similar, expression neutral, "yer a bight spark of a bloke, then. Sounds like a busy life."

"Well," he temporized, "I haven't exactly…had the chance to work as much on my projects as of late. The past few…," _hundred_, "…years have had a bit of a hectic pace."

"Right," she stated, nodding and turning away smartly as if this answered everything. And he knew how it sounded. An eccentric businessman, jack of all trades, coming to a blind gardener for help.

Bunnymund huffed out a breath, "look, I know how farfetched this might seem. An' I'm probably interrupting yer life in my asking. But ye _were_ recommended. Wait, tha' doesn't sound…"

He took a deep, bracing breath with one hand propped on his hip while the other pinched at the space between his eyebrows, where the pain was starting to build. And then he began again, slowly and carefully.

"What I mean is…that you came with the highest recommendation from someone whose work I trust. He wouldn'a suggested you if he didn't think yeh could do the job. I trust him, which means that I trust you to do yer best. I just…I need to save meh goo—" he coughed, "my flowers. I've…I've got other projects to catch up on, obviously, and my job's kind of important. But _they're_ important, too. I won't be able to do the rest of…of me work without 'em. And I need someone that I can _rely on_ to figure out what's wrong."

The woman had finally turned his direction in full, skepticism null and void. She also seemed to be actively listening, an open expression on her face and eyebrows lifting above those pale, pearlized eyes.

Her tools had even been set aside on the nearest long planter, soil-stained hands wiped futilely on her faded blue jeans. And now that her hair was tucked aside Bunnymund could see that her features were proud, her lineage evident, although surprisingly angular for a Maori, even as her nose was still characteristically prominent.

"And it doesn't matter that I'm blind? Not at all?" she asked slowly, a puzzled expression on her face. Aster shook his head at first before remembering that she couldn't see the action.

"Like I said before, 'slong as you figure out what's killing them, I don't care about any of tha'."

She huffed out a bit of a laugh at that but it settled into a serious, pondering expression. Finally she crossed her arms in thought, "well, if I'm your consultant then that means a consulting fee, if I recall correctly."

It was as good as a 'yes,' that she was even asking. But it brought up yet another problem. Payment. Ah. Right. He didn't usually deal in currency, but he could figure it out…with Tooth's help. And Jack's. Maybe.

The Easter Bunny coughed sharply and thumbed his nose before attempting a business-like response, "makes sense."

Her features became stony, determined, as though thinking of something else, "then I'd like to make a request of my own. I want to be paid with dough—I mean, cash. A starting fee first and then I want to be paid by the hour for research and experimentation."

Even better. Then he didn't have to worry about going through those pesky human banks.

"Alright, then, sounds reasonable. Name your price."

She did.

He was left blinking a moment, trying to translate the amount into something recognizable. Nope. Not going to happen. Holding back a sigh at his own failing, he forced himself to memorize the amount instead. Only afterward did the man-rabbit cough again and nod, "right. Can do, mate."

Her expression blanked, and he could see her shift slightly to lean against her guide dog, "really?"

"Um…yes?" was he not supposed to have accepted her offer? After all, money was just a mortal device, and what with all the digging he did he had several caverns worth of precious stones. Of course, most of them were used for the purpose of lasers or part of watch-like gears, so they were nothing more than tools and parts to him.

Well, they had been, anyway, before 1914. Then he'd become busy plying the other half of his trade. Which left his inventions largely untouched, the devices probably coated in years and years worth of dust, gunk backed up and stonework overrun with the moss that seemed to grow on everything and…

Actually, it was best to give up that train of thought before it went too far. He winced at the idea of his lovely creations treated so poorly by none other than their own creator.

But gemstones and inventions could hardly hold his attention. Not when he was on the cusp of saving his eggs, his Guardianship, and…when the sheila was smiling at him like _that_. He ended the thought with a shocked gape, Aster's jaw dropping at her full, albeit unfocussed grin. It…it almost seemed like the mortal woman could see him for a moment, there.

As they had been talking her tall form had been curved, shoulders turned inward as though expecting rejection and hurt. But now they were lifted, arms held loosely at her side. Even her cloud of thick hair curled and expanded of its own accord, causing Bunnymund to swallow at the sight, what with it looking so much like a Pooka's fur in the newly created darkness.

She was like a plant responding to the moonlight, lungs filling deeply with the smell of autumn's strong presence on the breeze. While gentle Zephyr spirits tangling in her hair, the Australian realized with a start. _Actual_ wind spirits were dancing around her as though they were old friends, and familiar green energy seemed to minutely emit from the plants to her left and right before disappearing back down into their roots. He might have even second-guessed its appearance, had he not felt the tug of Earth magic at work.

Nature was reacting to her just by way of proximity. A mortal, but connected even if it was only on the most basic level. Which meant that there was hope for his plants yet.

Sliding her hands into her pockets with a casualness belying the joy she was radiating, she took on a deliberately relaxed appearance, as though he'd taken care of all of her worries in one fell swoop, "I'm Ahureway Ihimaera, by the way. But you probably know that."

Aster coughed, because he hadn't thought to ask. Not Sandy nor even Mr. Qwerty himself, "ah, um, E. Aster Bun—Birmingham. Aster Birmingham."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Birmingham."

~/~/~

AN: The fact that Ahu is blind has been something I intended from the beginning and if I get any details wrong I do apologize. My research is a mix of (1) having a friend who was blind since birth, (2) having another friend who went blind due to a blood clot in her brain, and (3) reading a blog by a woman who was also blind since birth (lots of awesome details there!).

Bunnymund's accent is going to be stronger when he's upset and less so when he's calm, so I'll be going back and forth with his phonetic pronunciation (unlike my _Brave_ stories, in which Young MacGuffin's accent is pretty consistent). The same goes for Ahu, although a lot of her speech is going to be American-ized, since she's spent most of her life there.

**Side Note:** there's an overlap in many of the words used by Aussies (Australians) versus Kiwis (New Zealanders), but there are some specific differences every now and again. Australians seem to have heavier vowel sounds (a lot of them have an "uh" aspect to them) too, while New Zealander's have breathier, lighter words (more "eh" sounds, overall). Also Kiwis drop their 'T's and 'R's a lot, apparently.

**Ahureway**: "Sacred Place."

**Ahu**: "to look after."

"_Ihimaera, Witi (Witi Tame Ihimaera-Smiler) (1944– ), novelist, short story writer, anthologist and librettist, was born in Gisborne. He has the distinction of being the first Maori writer to publish both a book of short stories and a novel…"_ – www .bookcouncil. /writers/ ihimaerawiti. Html (fill in the spaces)

Pooka_—" The __púca__ (Irish for __goblin__), __pooka__, ""phooka"", __phouka__, __phooca__ or __púka__ is a primarily a creature of Irish folklore.__[1]__ Considered to be both bringers of good and bad fortune, they could either help or hinder rural and marine communities. The creatures were said to be shape changers which could take the appearance of black horses, goats and rabbits."-_Wikipedia, Púca. William Joyce made the race that Bunnymund belongs to the "Pooka," based on some of the characteristics they possess. You'll hear more about the Pookan planet later on.

_Goodo—yes._

_Munted—broken, messed up._

_Shufti—take a look at._

_Struth/strewth—affirmative mild oath/exclamation, used by both Australians and New Zealanders. Used to be, "God's Truth," which got rolled together._

_Bright spark-intelligent_

_Bloke—man that you don't necessarily know (NZ)_

**Leave a review if you can! It lets me know how I'm doing and what I can do better. :)**


	6. Life Intrudes

**Sightless Dreaming**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: Bunnymund spends most of the year gardening and taking care of the "egg plant" fields. But when the buds start dying, it's time to turn to an expert. Even if said expert is a mortal human. BunnymundXOC

Disclaimer: To assume that I own any of these characters is also to assume that I actually know what I'm doing with them. –laughs weakly- _Right._ Wish me luck.

~/~/~

Chapter 6: Life Intrudes

"_Oh, you see that skin?  
It's the same she's been standing in  
Since the day she saw him walking away  
Now she's left  
Cleaning up the mess he made."_

-John Mayer, "Daughters"

~/~/~

Rain pounded loudly on the tin roof of the _Heritage Park's_ vehicle overhang, waking her earlier than her alarm with nothing but her thoughts for company. And memories, really, of the day which had passed. She shouldn't have accepted the Aussie's offer, and it had all just started out so terribly, and then…well, she'd been desperate.

Which had probably been pretty obvious to the bloke. There were times when she really wished she could see, just to catch the expression on people's faces. She remembered what it meant vaguely, the way that instinct caused her to raise her eyebrows in confusion or roll her eyes in sarcasm. But if nonverbal communication was half of every conversation then in a way she felt like she was half cut off from everyone else. What had he been thinking as she'd demanded to be paid in cash, she wondered, as though she wanted their whole relationship to be under the table?

She didn't know what she'd been thinking. Really, it was all crazy.

Sighing, Ahu wiggled her big toe through a hole in her sock, rubbing it against the soft fabric of her sheets. Holes were an everyday part of life for the gardener. She did enough walking, running, kneeling and digging to ruin most of her nice things and wear out the tougher stuff. The problem being that usually she didn't notice until it was too late, sensation seeping in like the water which had recently made itself known through the gap in her shoe.

Her purse couldn't even afford to pay for replacements usually, not with the pittance she earned at the _Heritage Park_. Most of her earnings went into paying for her bills and groceries, room if not board covered by her position. Although everyone was sure to get a boost in income once she began harvesting.

The thought brought a smile to the woman's face and she carefully navigated out of bed, landing her holey sock on the rug beneath. Her flat used to be the cellar pantry of the little farm house, with one room still retained for harvest storage reasons. Of course, it had been remade over for human habitation, but that didn't change the fact that the foundation was uncarpeted cement, the walls painted over but still the same stony texture. It chilled the room during the summertime, a real relief in the heat, but in the winter she spent half of her life under an electric blanket.

That she was more sensitive to changes in her environment than most didn't help either. Ahu winced as she tip-toed in the basic direction of her slippers, hissing as she kicked something in the process (a CD? A chew-toy? She didn't remember leaving anything on the floor) before finding them. Taking the necessary steps needed to get ready for the day (third shirt from the left in the closet, smooth texture, tight threading. It had to be the lavender button-up, which was dressy enough for what she intended), showering and throwing together a quick breakfast of toast and peppermint herbal tea (she touched the water with her left index finger, making sure it was cool enough to drink).

The shelves lining the living room walls, their tray surfaces covered with budding plants in tiny, squared-off sections of soil seed-starters, had their heat lamps checked. And harnessing Ruru was no problem, the combination of habit and learned skill coming with ease.

He had been uneasy when she woke up, though, a rough anxiety which began the day before with Mr. Birmingham's appearance. Usually given to remaining calm in most situations, even when meeting new people, the canine had been strangely on edge during her conversation with the potential 'employer.' As though he didn't quite trust the man who had been standing before them, despite having never met him before.

Which was odd. For all that Birmingham was brusque and blustery, an ocker for sure, and a social throwback at best, he seemed honest. His tone as he'd talked about his flowers had especially pricked her ears, the desperation in his words unfeigned. There was no reason for Ruru to feel uneasy about the matter, even if his had been an odd request and an even odder interaction. So why had the Husky been so set on protecting her, yet not fierce enough for there to be any real danger? It was all rather unusual.

Ruru's emotions settled well enough once he had the harness on, previous upset or no, ready for business.

Then they were up the stone cellar stairs (eight steps) and out the door, her bus pas hanging from a badge around her neck over a rain slicker and an umbrella in hand. Ahureway passed by the long wooden planter boxes with determination, ignoring the temptations which called out to her.

The rain always brought out a kind of peace to her, serenity found in the continual beating of the skies in its earthbound course. Other sounds were muffled by the competing hum, but scents were increased as the soil opened its arms to what could only be termed a friend.

They tugged for attention, the scent of vegetables and herbs calling from the four long planters behind the farmhouse. A place which she called home, even as most people were unaware of the fact, her doorway tucked at the back of the building.

The rest of the building was for show, though once it had belong to Sue's great-grandfather. He'd built the shingled home for his new bride with pride, walls cheerily painted yellow and cast-iron stove still in working order. It bore an attic with simple beds on display, wood carved and stained a golden tone (according to the Braille plaque) with a loving hand. The parlor even contained examples of furniture and china that had managed to survive the distance across the plains and, presented as the jewel that it was, the building was the centerpiece of the Heritage Park. A centerpiece which Ahu lived under. Sitting near the center of the plot of land, everything else surrounded it like spokes on a wheel.

Well, spokes on half a wheel. According to Hahona's words the place was more "sliced-apple"-shaped, or like a flattened painting of a sunset, the road next to the ranch acting as the barrier line. Most days and nights Ahureway could hear cars go past in a steady flurry, the long stretch of asphalt leading up into the canyons. She even went to bed to its steady lull, less consistent in its movements but akin to the wash of waves on the shore.

The road also allowed cars to pull right up into the _Heritage Park's_ parking area, the rough terrain of the gravel boxed in like a child's sandbox with a wooden boardwalk, each section of walkway leading to one of the many buildings the park could boast.

There was the working smithy where they made horseshoe "prairie wedding rings", a false post office, and a gift shop, full of rolled honeycomb beeswax candles and mason jars of jam and pickles. Ahu took pride in the fact that many of these, and other products, were the result of her own hard work. Although the actual canning process had been done by Sue herself, the third in her family to keep the historical museum going. No one was quite sure who would take after her, a childless widow, although no one was too worried about it at this point, given the strength of her health.

The long wooden planking ended with a barn used for performances, plays, dances and large events, the loft converted into a small apartment for the middle-aged woman, and a dairy was thrown in there as well. Although the milk they used for their 'butter churning' activity came courtesy of neighboring farms, a fact that was sensible if little-known.

Ahureway very rarely had anything to do with the other half of the place, feeling no need to gawk at things she couldn't see or participate in activities which might result in an accident occurring. Truthfully, other than Sue and Patrick, the college student which took care of the corn, Ahu also had little interaction with most of the park's staff.

It was a lonely existence but she still had Ruru, her frequent luncheons with Sue, conversations with Esme, guest lectures at the Uni, and her relationship with Hahona. The gardens, existing behind the farmhouse (and consequently in view of the road if not access to the general public), of course kept her busy, too.

First there the four long planters, organized by type, and then the squash and pumpkin patch beside it. A shed far off on the edge of their land was slowly being retrofitted for use as a green house, certain parts of the roofing exchanged for glass paneling, and a small field of corn (used for maze purposes during the month of October), created a natural barrier between what she thought of as 'her' area and a grassy expanse used for fake cannon demonstrations.

Cutting the gardener off from guests and other individuals, the actors coming and going with the change in semesters at the University.

Instead on a morning like this (sans-rain, of course), before the _The Heritage Ranch and History Park _opened its gates to the public, Ahu would be down on her hands and knees among her plants, searching out the prickly stems of dandelions sneaking in between her vegetables' roots. They were the bane of her existence, silent and deadly, and she'd had to uproot more than a few veggie patches in search of the central root system plaguing her work. Then the gardener would make sure to water and fertilize the crop, paying close attention to the more sensitive vegetation.

In the evening she would do the follow-up tasks, as the sun was setting and things were cooling down. Prepping the shed-turned-greenhouse just past her garden rows and pumpkin patches for winter.

Today, however, she had other tasks to attend to.

The woman had been hesitant to take the bull by the horns, but the weather had settled the matter. She couldn't do her job right now, with the ground moist and muddy, sound nonexistent. Being a Saturday there was no cause to visit Esme, the _Center for the Deaf and Blind_ having their usual weekend outing.

There was no helping it. She would have to meet with Kai.

~/~/~

The ceiling fan in his office squeaked, the dying exclamation of a hanged man rubbing her ears raw as cool air trickled down from overhead. Essentially freezing what little body heat she'd managed to retain after the clamminess of rain while waiting at the bus stop. While the room itself smelled like salami, reminding her that she still hadn't had lunch yet after all the traveling she'd done so far.

It was all one distraction after another, flustering her slightly in its uncomfortable unfamiliarity. Discomfort or no, she wasn't going to shy away from her task, though.

"Why does my account have no funds?"

The question was toneless and blunt, stated somewhere in front of her, and she could hear rather than sense the figure looking back at her uneasily. The tell-tale back and forth squeal of his chair and long familiarity told her as much.

Also, the long pause. Their father used to do that, whenever they were in trouble. It was the silence paired with a long, considering look which quickly caused them to confess their guilt or give into his dictates. But she wasn't young anymore, for one, and if he was giving her any kind of 'look' then she was oblivious to it. Instead all she heard was silence. And the ceiling fan's squeak.

"I put a block on yer account en case of large expenditures," he finally said, the statement made out in her brother's low, accented voice. A match against her own bland wording, he managed the words with ease, his cool tone never revealing the fiery temper that they both possessed.

Ahu's eyebrows first lifted and then lowering into a furrow of a frown, "large expenditures? What large expenditures?"

He took a deep breath in his barrel chest, courtesy of a long line of warriors, and answered slowly, "I noticed a trend on yer most recent bank statement."

This time confusing colored her words, along with a little worry, "Kaihautu…all I do with me money is buy food and pay me phone bill. Are ye sure someone else didn't get a hold of my acco-."

"An' shop online. Ye also shop online," he interrupted sharply, the accusing line jumping to his lips.

She blinked rapidly at that blatant bit of privacy invasion, adding it to the long list of ways he'd always tried to 'guide' her, but slowly went on. She ignoring Ruru's slight movement of concern beneath her chair, feeling his head lift and a rumble of protectiveness burn against her leg, "Kai…the last time I purchased anything online was a month ago. I bought a book-and-CD combo for Hannah's birthday, so that we could read it togetha'."

Silence was her companion for a moment, and even the chair had stopped its grating movements. Though the fan still came with irritating regularity.

"It was about mermaids," she prompted, "remember?"

He grunted uncomfortably at the mention of his daughter, shifting more within his chair, and she knew by the sound of shuffling paper that he was attempting to look busy and unconcerned, despite the fact that she couldn't see it.

"Still, the fact remains that ye cannot be trusted ta maintain yer own affairs without guidance. Ye fail ta see the importance of financial mattas, Ahureway. Not with yer debts hanging over all aur heads."

_Her debts._ That was all that it came down to, wasn't it? Debts that were of course her fault, never mind the fact that she'd never asked to become blind, never asked for their father to…do what he had.

To leave them, and her, to Kai's care in the end.

She was suffocating in the scent of burned money, medical bills drowning her voice out when it all just _wasn't her fault…_

Sadness broke free of the carefully controlled tenor she was going for, "Kaihautu, I didn't ask for ye to help with those, and ye know it. I can take care of meself, and I've nearly got most of it taken care of. I understand the magnitude of what I'm dealing with, I really do."

Again with that blasted silence, turning her placating entreaty over into anger and frustration.

"Look, I know I'm blind but that doesn't make me an invalid or inept. You need to stop treating me like a child."

She could feel his own ire rearing like a stallion, the man pounding his desk with a fist as he rose to tower above her.

"Then you need to stop acting like one!"

"_How_ have I been acting like a child?"

He avoided the question, moving to what she believed was a bookshelf to look at something she could only guess at. The accessories around his office were tasteful, according to Hahona, but she had never gone into detail about anything. And Ahu had never felt comfortable enough to try to explore and examine, "I repeat what I said earlier. I cut back your account due to an increase in _large expenditures_."

She huffed angrily, hand landing on Ruru's side as he began to growl, "The last time I bought something big was when I had ta buy a new cell, Kai-."

"This did not mean that ye had to pick one that was the top of the line," he stated stonily, and she knew without a doubt that this was the 'large expenditure' he kept talking about,

"It's an _iPhone!_ Lots of people have one, it's not that extreme. And it has a Braille feature—would you rather I buy a Braille-specific cell?"

"I still don't see what was wrong with yer last phone—"

"It got _run over_, that's what's wrong with it! And with this one I can write down lectures and do research-."

"You should give up that fool activity and settle down. Find a man to take care of ye."

First Hahona, now her brother. Was the world trying to force down her throat the fact that she was basically an 'old maid' by their culture's standards. At least with the former she knew that her sister actually cared about her wellbeing, but with Kai it felt like he was just…

She forced herself to keeping breathing steadily, knowing that deep down beneath everything he was well-meaning. Very deep down.

"Kai. Enough," she said shortly, forcing her voice back down as she ran a hand over her long curly hair, hands shaking unnoticeably, "look, I'm aware that there are roles in our culture. And that in ways I'm…I'm at a disadvantage because of my blindness."

He said nothing, and that was as much a confirmation as anything he could have said. Her throat closed off for a moment, and she wondered if her eyes were red.

"But I'm never gonna be the woman Dad wants me ta be, okay? An' I don't need ta marry just so that the responsibility of 'caring for me' ken be passed on. I ken honestly handle being on me own. A've done it for a couple of years now an'-."

He cut her off harshly, voice like a death sentence, "ye assume too much and ye've become too American. Ye don't think about yer culture or yer role. Yer jest a tall poppy. I think it's time tha ye returned home."

She was left gasping for air, the one thing she'd once wanted more than anything now creating a pit in her stomach. Return home? What did that even _mean?_ Leave behind her handful of friends and both Hahona and Hannah? What about her work at the _Heritage Park? _Who would make certain that everything was harvested in time? Sure, Sue could hire someone new, but those were her plants, her work. And Sue was getting on in years, Ahu was one of the few people she could count on to do her job without supervision.

And what about Birmingham and his tulips?

The thought froze her in her seat, memories bringing his voice back like a boomerang. He'd come to her specifically, he'd said. Only she could help him. He needed someone that he could trust, and she'd been recommended by someone he thought highly of.

They'd struck a deal, made a promise, and uncertainty or no she didn't go back on her promises.

Which means that she'd already made her choice.

Ahu stood abruptly, pulling her cane out from her pocket and jerking it from its folded position back into full length. Ruru sensed this shift in mood and rose with her, solid form a solemn and steadying weight against her leg.

"No, Kai. I won't be."

Her voice came out clear and steady within the office. This time the silence was to her own advantage. She could practically hear his surprise, and in that space put her foot down.

"I'm thirty-one, not fourteen. Fully legal in every sense. An' if you try to make me leave I'm within rights ta fight back. I'll be taking care of meself, and me debts. _All_ of 'em."

Ahu opened her mouth to report her new job, to declare her independence further, but something stopped her. A presence which felt both familiar and yet foreign. It glowed along her skin and smelled of soil and honey, homey scents which gave her as much strength as a bracing cup of peppermint tea. Bringing a kind of solidity to her marrow.

Kai wanted to send her home, to wash his hands of an unwanted responsibility, and she had always reacted to that unspoken issue. It had always been a problem, a fight to prove to Kai—even to her father—that after everything which had happened she really was of worth. Her efforts at graduating with a Bachelors degree, living on her own, doing lectures at the University and representative work with the _Society of the Deaf and Blind_ had hardly given her any points.

Therefore working on commission as a contractor wouldn't change any of that.

The blind woman would just have to keep it to herself, pay off everything in one fell swoop, and declare herself financially independent. Then the only time she'd have to come to Kai was when visiting her niece Hannah or having a family dinner at Hahona's small home.

No, it was best that she keep her newfound status change to herself, otherwise she might jinx it.

By the time Ahu left, led by Ruru and climbing downstairs to meet Hahona (ten steps) it had stopped raining.

~/~/~

AN: **TheManyVoices/hhutch20 created a BEAUTIFUL piece of fanart for Ahu! :D Go and check it out, seriously! themanyvoices. deviantart art/ Ahureway- 374236110 (remove spaces). **Also, I tried to include more Ruru in this, but I think I failed. T_T I'll work harder at it, I promise!

**Nikki:** YAY! I'm glad that it's making you excited. :D And I'm happy that you find Ahu's blindness to be an interesting change of pace. :D

**EmeyTroi:** LOOKIT! I described the grounds. ;)

The information about her life as a blind person was sort-of supplied by my friend Emily, who's been blind since birth. For example, I talked to her about a mug I found online which tells you verbally if something's too hot and her response was to shrug and say, "I just stick my finger in the water and then if it's too hot then I don't drink it." ^_^;; Alright then.

Also, it was a real relief being able to write about her lack of sight. In chapter 3 I was trying my best not to make it obvious (but still there if you knew what you were looking for), so being able to mention things in this one was a boatload of fun! :D

There are so many details from my own life and experiences in this chapter that it isn't even funny. ^^; My sister, who is a fantastic help with gardening information in general and harvesting, planting, and care in specific, will probably be able to tell where fiction ends and the facts begin, but I hope that these dots of truth don't spoil the imagery for her. :)

Kai's voice is that of the Chief Steward from the newer, "Johnny Lingo," film ( www. youtube watch?v =e0TI- VUMDZI [remove spaces] starting at 0:36:20). I know that he's supposed to be angry in this, but I can't help but chuckle every time I write him.

And every now and again, Ahureway sounds an awful lot like Martha Jones from Doctor Who. :D

**Kaihautu****:** Leader

New Zealand is actually really egalitarian but gender roles do still exist. Kai's desire for her to settle down and become a wife, however, is honestly due to a mix of not knowing what to do with her and wanting to wash his hands of the responsibility. **Do not take the conversation I've written here as any sort of example of Maori gender roles, which are more complicated than what I've shown. **This is honestly a family spat, ongoing and embittered.

**Tall poppy syndrome** (**TPS**) _"is a __pejorative__ term primarily used in the __UK__, __Canada__, __Australia__, __New Zealand__ and other __Anglosphere__ nations to describe a social phenomenon in which people of genuine merit are resented, attacked, cut down, or criticized because their talents or achievements elevate them above or distinguish them from their peers._

_Australia__'s usage of the term has evolved and is not uniformly negative. (See below) In Australia, a long history of 'underdog' culture and profound respect for humility in contrast to that of Australia's English feudal heritage results in a different understanding of 'Tall Poppy Syndrome'."_ –Wikipedia, Tall Poppy Syndrome


	7. Responsibilities

**Sightless Dreaming**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: Bunnymund spends most of the year gardening and taking care of the "egg plant" fields. But when the buds start dying, it's time to turn to an expert. Even if said expert is a mortal human. BunnymundXOC

Disclaimer: To assume that I own any of these characters is also to assume that I actually know what I'm doing with them. –laughs weakly- _Right._ Wish me luck.

~/~/~

Chapter 7: Responsibilities

"_You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn't true. I know a lot about love. I've seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars. Pain, lies, hate... It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that mankind loves... You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful."_

-Yvaine, "Stardust"

~/~/~

The flooded towns were only just starting to drain, the contents of the sky having poured themselves down streets, swiping with them all cars and humans which barred their path. And the newly wind-ravaged homes had been lost all over again, water damage sinking through ceilings and attics previously ripped open by a ruthless hand.

Mother Nature could curse as well as bless, and he was doing his best to provide damage control.

Of course, Bunnymund had sworn off helping humans after the fall of Atlantis, but it seemed that all it had taken for him to throw away his vow had been the tantalizing promise of friendship and a glimpse at the egg from which 'Mother Goose's steed had been born.

The Easter Bunny shook his head wryly as he waded through muddy rainwater. It only reached his calves now rather than his thighs, for which he was grateful, allowing him the stability and reach to snag up a frantically struggling pug and set it on dry ground. A few minutes later he had to smile as the Guardian heard the joyful reunion of child and pet, then continued on to do his work.

He'd sold himself for far less than he was worth, he knew now. Like a dwarf who was easily bought over by a handful of plastic gemstones. But he wouldn't take it back for anything.

Not after all those years of solitude; the melancholy echo of empty halls and faded voices. The adventure North and Katherine had presented had seemed like the perfect opportunity to escape his sepulcher. Of course, then he'd gotten tangled in his promise to the Man in the Moon and suddenly it became more than just a simple adventure. Now it was his life, and he was just as tied to his responsibilities as North had ever been, crazy ex-bandit that he was.

For all that Pitch was filled with half-truths and lies, what he'd said to Jack months before had been accurate. Before becoming a Guardian he'd been the last Pooka in existence, just biding his time until the end. But his work as the Easter Bunny had changed him. After becoming a Guardian his already extended lifecycle had become connected to the position.

At his age he should be more than 'just' graying, he knew. Aster's limbs _should_ be turning frail and memories dimming much like his father's had and his father before him. Struth, he'd been around long enough to round out the Earth in order to fix its orbit (its former egg shape aesthetically pleasing but unstable in relation to its rotation around the sun), using the extra dirt to create Australia (his favorite continent). He had seen cultures rise and fall.

But MiM's blessing was extending his years even further.

Bunnymund probably would have passed away in the 1830's, had nature followed its course. Instead he was in the prime of his life. When he'd taken up the position as Guardian of Hope he hadn't known that it would mean that the last of the Pookas would remain the last. Provided, of course, that children kept believing.

It was why he'd had a more extreme 'reaction,' to Pitch Black's onslaught, the tug of lost hope pulling directly from his life force. Leaving him nothing more than an archaic reflection of his people's genetic ancestry.

It was sobering, to have his entire being stripped down to its barest form. Humbling even. For all that Tooth had lost her powers and flight, the Goddess side of her had remained physically present. And time had fallen upon North with a heavy hand, physically aging him, but the man's breadth and pride had remained.

Only Aster had been physically altered.

The thought weighed heavily on the Pooka as he passed crumbling buildings and wind-torn streets. The environment he treaded reflected the torn, sodden state of his emotions as he subconsciously spread hope merely by his presence, lost in the confines of his own mind. He'd been feeling vulnerable ever since he'd lost Easter, a kind of steady worry buzzing at the back of his mind. And even after the defeat of their enemy it still lingered, like a chocolatey stomachache.

Bunnymund didn't dare speak of it to his fellow Guardians, either. Nor the heavy feeling which came when waiting for the other shoe to drop.

For a time Aster thought that he was just letting the paranoia of his hermit lifestyle seep in until what he'd been fearing actually _had_ come in the form of his dying plants. The worst part being that no one took the damage seriously. No one except for hisself, anxiety clawing up his throat the longer it took to figure out what was wrong.

Time crept perilously on, never mind the fact that he had almost half a year to go before next Easter. None of it would matter if he didn't have any plants _left_ for the egg-based holiday. But how could he heal his googies when he couldn't even heal himself?

The Easter Bunny paused to rest his paw on the shoulder of a man passing by, the mortal's arms heavy with dripping wreckage. Aster's touch went through the individual, of course, but despite this reality the sufferer visibly straightened as hope for a better future suffused his being. The rabbit even caught a glimpse of brilliant emotion from the human, a deceased father's voice creaking like old leather in a determined whisper of memory.

"_Bad things sometimes happen to good people. Which is why good people get up and try again. The Good Lord didn't raise you up to be pessimistic, and neither did I."_

The tone was stern but affectionate, reminding Aster of his own father, lost among the stars. Nearby a small child gaped at the vision of a man-sized rabbit meandering through the crowd, the boy's clothes bedraggled as he stood thigh-deep in water by what remained of a downed cement mailbox.

Aster had to smile, a minutiae of happiness found in the situation. For all North's bluster about serving the children of the world he holed himself up in that Pole of his more often than not, and Tooth was busy being the head of a militant organization of worker fairies. Sandy interacted with the people of the world in his own way, but only the Easter Bunny personally walked among men in an effort at spreading hope. His was a different role, but he took to it as surely as he had once taken to being a scientific recluse.

He'd been in Syria as of late, trying to bolster people where he could despite the threat of living there. And then recently there'd been several major bombings, tornados, floods, fires, _massive_ forest fires and floods again, settling shaky foundations and helping people pick up the pieces. It was only the end of the summer season, too—who knew what might come next?

The fact that he was giving of himself, in a sense, had once made him wonder if hope physically was draining from him in order to pass to those in need. The battle of Pitch had confirmed it to a point, even if Sanderson's regenerative properties told him otherwise, but the concept fit the mood he was in. The Easter Bunny remaining a solemn, lonely figure in the middle of a crowd, almost a metaphor for his entire life.

Bunnymund clasped his paws behind his back as he deliberately grazed people as he passed, thoughts half on the world he was standing in and half elsewhere. Seeing a family being reunited with one another made him happy in one sense while emphasized what he'd lost in another. The Pookan species would never fully die out, thanks to the last Tsar Lunar's aid, but it sure made for a lonely existence.

The Easter Bunny sighed at the thought, a tiny unrecognized part of him still yearning for family, a home that was more than just workshop and solitude, maybe even the pitter-patter of tiny rabbit feet. But it really wasn't to be. Honestly, the closest thing he would ever have to his "own" child was Sophie, and that was a vicarious parenting experience.

Kind of like a bachelor uncle with too much time on his hands.

He of course also had his responsibilities to fill his time. Work similar to what he was doing now, brushing shoulders with folk on their way to shelters or back to their homes to find out what could be salvaged. Jack had once asked what he did the rest of the year and why he always seemed so rushed come Easter, and this was it.

Mortal humans were always in need of hope.

Satisfied with the cheer he saw blossoming in starts, and himself heavy with exhaustion both physical and emotional, Bunnymund pounded the ground twice and headed out, a pink aster flower growing in the midst of the underwater sidewalk as he dropped into a damp tunnel, water pouring inside in the few seconds it took to close the portal.

The inventor and artist had taken a power nap after having met the Ihimaera girl, falling immediately into a heavy slumber uninfluenced by dreams. Then he'd made his rounds through the Warren, the verdict unchanged, before heading out to help the world.

A day and a half (give or take) his 'shift' of hope-giving was done with…for now.

Time worked differently in the Warren. Eternal springtime might seem like a sea of boredom for people like Frostbite, but E. Aster Bunnymund was accustomed to it, and used the environment to his advantage. The sun, untainted by pollution, streamed through the canopy of leaves. But what was more, it slipped and slid through openings in the portholes above.

The stonework of the Warren had once been part of a great ship, fashioned into an escape pod after Pitch's destruction of his home planet. Bunnymund had landed it when he'd only been a young adult in his lifespan, but time had worn down the stone. He'd kept up the place at first, disguising it as a mountain as he began to fashion tunnels through the lower layers, but it had quickly grown over as the emptiness of it all sometimes caused him to loathe being in the Warren itself.

The space had been made for so much more than a single occupant, the tunnels and archways reverberating hollowly. But moss and naturally forming plant-life, an extension of a hydroponics section left to tend to itself, had taken over all but the areas he used for experimentation. Bunnymund had found that he didn't mind—it made the place echo less.

It was part of why he'd dug out his burrow the way he had. Everything below the main Warren was his own creation—the chocolate rooms, now largely devoted to mass production rather than the delicate work he'd dabbled in. The great "Easter Bunny" had once created exquisite sweets with attributes that extended beyond simple flavor and texture into bits and bubbles of magic. Things which changed one's size, strength, appearance and increased one's health.

Of course, he didn't have time for that sort of pleasure now. So the tubs and simmering vessels were attended to by mechanical eggs, somewhere between the Warren's monolith guards and his capering googies in both size and strength. They cooked, set, and sorted chocolate in store for the coming holiday in mass amounts and familiar forms.

It was an area separate from his personal burrow, the quarters simple and quiet in comparison with only the tiniest of workrooms. He was ready to escape to such solitude, had something not set his senses off. It was the faint buzz of movement, a hum that could have been anything from the army of bees and butterflies which pollinated the googie flowers to that of ghosts converging at the back of his mind. But something was…off. And current events had certainly made him more wary.

Tensing, Aster turned slowly, drawing forth his twin boomerangs and trying to ignore the way his legs shook, weighed down by pervasive damp and the effort of traversing through flood waters. Then there was the lack of sleep, the anxiety of the past few days of travel, and the all-encompassing worry eating at his ears and toes. He stilled himself, backing against the rock ledge which provided a cover for his drop-down "doorway," eyes alert.

A flash of fluttering turquoise, magenta and brilliant azure sent that unease out in a solid whoosh, however, and Bunnymund took a step back to lean against the stone outcropping, waiting for his heart to stop racing. Tooth took that as a sign that she was welcome, and with a nervous flutter his coworker moved in carefully.

"Bunny! I'm so sorry for interrupting you. I-I know how busy you can be, and, well, I've been somewhat busy, too, so…um…"

The tooth boxes. He nodded, sharply, then felt a slight rush of regret as he thought he saw her take the movement personally, the woman wincing. In times of exhaustion he defaulted back to the way he had once been, standoffish and many times proud.

To counter the effect, as well as maintain some stability, the rabbit-man gulped a breath and stooped to the ground to snatch up a handful of fresh grass and mint. His energy was draining as he stood, so he'd have to snack till he had the chance to eat something real and solid.

"…and I was going to respond, but then one of the mini-fairies went missing. And it turned out that one of the leaf men thought that she was a hummingbird and tried to make her a steed, so of course I had to deal with that…"

He hardly noticed the narrative she was rambling, the immortal female flitting and fluttering anxiously. Lighting first upon the rock outcropping, then the closest tree. It was her "tell," an almost ADHD-like characteristic reminiscent of her avian look-alike.

She didn't used to be so…scattered. Certainly she still had the sharp mind needed for her military-like organization of helper fairies to run smoothly. But when they'd met, that first night with Katherine's tooth under her pillow and everything at stake, she'd been strong, brazen, but determined. Cool, even. Definitely more of a warrior than _he'd_ been.

Of course, she'd only had a handful of fairy attendants then, utilizing her "multiplying" abilities only in emergencies. It seemed as though the more she'd split herself the less "concentrated" she became. She couldn't focus because she was involved in literally a million other things—including the intuitive awareness of teeth all over the world.

Jack's increased presence had a least aided with some of her distraction, giving the Tooth Fairy (and her 'ladies') something and someone to really focus on.

For all that he gave a little of 'himself' away when he bestowed hope upon the world, he found it far better than Tooth's alternative. He was able to rest after each endeavor, for one. For another...

…after Pitch had gotten a hold of her miniature selves…

What was it like, he wondered, to know that one part of yourself was free while another part was under lock and key? They were more than members of her 'family'—they were her very essence. It was enough to shake anyone up.

"Tooth," he murmured as her chattering increased his headache, bringing her to task and attention.

"But anyway, Incisor said you left a note with her stating that you wanted to see me?"

And he did. Although in coming upon the required conversation, he found himself reluctant to admit to actions that in the light of his own Warren seemed insane and out of character.

"Right. Um, Tooth, that message was left for ya several days ago."

"_I just told you_ why I couldn't come. Molar accidentally ended up wandering into the kingdom of the leaf men and-."

"What I mean ta say is…it's taken care of."

He spoke sharply, wanting more than anything to lie down and get some sleep. Perhaps eat a few carrots or radishes. But his tone set something off in Toothiana.

She stilled, feet touching the ground for the first time.

He mentally swore in ancient Pookanese. Then Atlantian. With maybe some Aborigine and Maori thrown in for variety.

"You… took care of it?" she repeated, carefully. Her feet had fallen into either a fighter's stance or a dancer's. He wasn't sure which. But she didn't have her dual swords, so that was a good sign.

Aster coughed awkwardly, straightening despite the strain and trying to look nonchalant all the while, "ya see, ma googies are sick-," _dying_, "so I found meself an expert."

The warrior crossed her arms carefully, "Mother Nature?"

As if he'd ask _her_ for help. That was a snare if there ever was one.

He tried to maintain his confidence, yet still managed to stumble over his words, "s-some'on else."

"Another immortal?"

"Um…"

"Ōnamuji ? Sorry, Ōkuninushi?"

"…no."

"Lono?"

"…"

"Dian Cecht?" _Actually, why hadn't he thought of asking him?_

"Please don't tell me it was Oberon or Titania. Or that fluffy-haired, glitter-centric, goblin-kicking son of theirs," the last one came out sharper than she probably had intended, given that they'd had to save a child or two from his mischief.

"It's a mortal, awright," he burst out, unable to remain silent any longer, "Sandy 'n I found a shiela that could grow things an' heal things an' I went ta her fer help."

There was a moment of complete silence in which Toothiana said nothing at all, merely letting him stew in his anxiety as her expression firmed and grew cold.

"'_She'?_"

One brow ridge lifted in the most pointed look he'd ever seen, in all his thousands of years of living. Well, he took that back—he'd seen his mother wear such an expression, a long, _long_ time ago.

"Bunny, I know you probably are just as lonely as I am, but you really shouldn-."

Not expecting that kind of response, he blanched, "what? _No!_ Why did…ugh, no. Tooth, look, I've asked fer her _help_, nothin' more 'n that. I'm…I'm better off on my own, ya know that."

The 'look' she sent him this time was a mix of knowing and exasperated, "be that as it may, _you went to a mortal?_ Seriously? As in an _adult_ mortal?"

"Unlikely I'd find a child wi' the right stuff about 'im."

"Unless you're dealing with someone like that Fowl kid," she muttered and he felt as though he'd missed something. But she picked the conversation up again too quickly for him to ask.

"Aster, do you really think that it's wise for us to trust someone like…this person?" she was hovering from place to place again. He'd thought that the stillness was unnerving but all her movement was just worsening his exhaustion.

"Her name is Ahu," he stated more sharply than he had intended, forcibly softening the second half of his sentence, "and she won't betray us."

Tooth's magenta eyes darkened with worry.

"Look, Tooth, I know that you've had a fair spot o' trouble with adult humans in the past-," he began.

Tooth was quick to interrupt, "all my life, practically."

"—But that was several hundred years ago."

The reference to the past only seemed to close her off more, the fairy attempting a fairly neutral response. Which in fact came off as cool and brittle, "I don't know what you're talking about. I get along fine with lots of adults. There's North-."

"Who's no more'n a big child at heart."

"—and Mother Goose—."

"Ya met Katherine when she was an ankle-biter, remember? She lost her 'tooth of destiny.'"

"—and Nightlight."

"Katherine's pesky boyfriend only _just_ grew up, same rate as her. An' don' think I didn't notice that Jack is _just_ _barely_ this side o' being legal, Tooth."

Her shrug was half embarrassment and half deliberately icy, "I don't know what you're talk about, Bunny-."

"Ya already said that."

"—he's three hundred and eighteen years old. And besides," she muttered quickly, under her breath, "lots of colonists married young back then."

He chose to ignore that detail, "an' yer older 'n the mountains but younger than the wind."

"Yeah, well," she began, folding her arms over her chest and searching frantically for a response, "you created Australia, and…and you were around when the Earth was formed, you _old Hare_."

"That I was."

There was truth in the fact that while he was certainly not the oldest Guardian, he most definitely wasn't the youngest. But Tooth was right on one matter—they'd both been alone for a very long time.

The two immortals remained tense for a moment before breaking into soft chuckles. Anger couldn't last for too long when they'd been friends for as long as they had. But ultimately the female Guardian sobered, and as her arms remained locked over her torso they shifted from a defiant clasp into a desperate clutch round her ribs, "look, I'm just saying…be careful. Okay, Aster? I mean, I was betrayed by people I _grew up with_, so…"

She trailed off before finishing lamely, "just…be careful."

He nodded in all seriousness, recognizing the admission for what it was. Pitch's recent attempt at domination and destruction had shaken all of them, and perhaps he wasn't alone in his feelings of upset. Especially if the Boogeyman's actions brought to light other memories supposedly forgotten.

Then again, as the Guardian of Memories, maybe the truth of the matter was that those fears and thoughts were never too far below the surface.

"I will. I'll do ma best. But…I really think that this is the right thing ta do. Even Qwerty agrees."

Tooth's feathers fluttered in surprise, "Mr. Qwerty? But I thought he'd disappeared when—."

"Me too. But he was with Sandy and led me right ta her, which means that I must be doin' somethin' right," he allowed a smirk to grace his features, "I feel that she can help ma googies—she's got the magic."

The Tooth Fairy was back to her frantic hovering, "but…what if she tells someone—."

"She won't, Tooth," he stated quietly, then swallowed as though revealing a secret that wasn't really his to share, "she can't even _see_ me. Tooth, Ahu's…she's…the girl's _blind_, 'Iana."

The revelation froze her midair before the woman's expression blanched and her jaw dropped, "wait, what? What did you say?"

"Yeah," he awkwardly rubbed at the back of his furred neck, "um, yeah. She can't see me so…ya don't have ta worry about that."

"And yet…she believes in you enough to communicate with you?" her confusion turned to a calm sort of interrogation and Bunnymund abruptly found his vision full of a fiercely frowning fairy.

"Ya. And?"

"Bunny, belief extends itself to all the senses. So she should have lost the ability to communicate with you when she became an adult, regardless of a lack of sight. Yet a part of her must still believe," her mind was working as furiously as her workers, fingers tapping rapidly against her cheek.

He blinked carefully, "which is…good?"

"Which is…curious," Tooth corrected thoughtfully, mind abuzz with the puzzle, "Don't you see? There is something profoundly different about this…young woman. It seems almost too good to be true, that she has the ability to hear you and possibly heal your plants."

"You bet your nelly she can fix 'em."

"Sure, sure," she murmured, waving the thought of his googies' plight away. He thought about being irritated for a moment or two, but ultimately decided that they had had enough arguing for one evening, "but don't you see the curious nature of the matter, as though someone planned it _just so_? You say even Mr. Qwerty suggested her—but couldn't there have been any other number of people with similar abilities?"

"Well," the Easter Bunny reluctantly admitted, leaning against the stone entryway to his burrow, "Qwerty did say that something was blocking him at one point."

"Really? How very interesting," he could see her mind trying to analyze the situation, but her expression told him that she was missing more than a few pieces to the puzzle, "I'll have to go and visit my vaults to do a little cross referencing. Then I'll let you know if I come up with anything."

His shoulders dropped a bit as the slightest amount of tension left him. Because if Tooth was busy researching something out then she would leave him to his own devices. Then maybe he could get some sleep.

But wait…

"Oh! Before ya go. She thinks I'm a businessman an' that she's 'working on commission.' But I've gotta pay the Shiela. Do ya think you could convert some of ma gemstones into common currency?"

Toothiana nodded absently, "yes, that shouldn't be a problem. Just how much will you need?"

He repeated the amount Ahu had spouted at him and quickly became the proud owner of a stunned, gaping Tooth Fairy.

~/~/~

AN:Looooooong chapter. :S Sorry about that.

This was originally started after the Boston Bombings occurred…and then the events in Oklahoma followed. Plus the flooding in Canada. And fires in Colorado. And recently Canada was hit again with another disaster in the form of a horrific oil explosion. And certain towns in China are dealing with flooding and mudslides right now. I had aimed to tie recent events into what Bunnymund does—literally bringing hope—but then more and more kept coming. D:

I couldn't keep referencing to specifics, so I decided to keep the actual events he attends to vague. That being said, to anyone who is dealing with trials in their life (natural disasters or otherwise), this chapter is for you. I hope that the Easter Bunny can bring you some hope.

The stuff about Bunnymund interacting with the people of Atlantis and shaping the Earth and making Australia…totally from the books. As are the tunnels full of inventions and chocolate devices.

The info about the Warren's stonework as being leftovers of a ship created by an 'ancient race', however, is made up by me (prompted by something I read recently: _"…With the Warren's giant stone carvings and Japanese-garden touches, it's apparent that it was once an orderly place, perhaps the site of a lost civilization. Without a population to maintain them, though, these structures have been overtaken by wild plants and trees."_)

But it's also based on the idea of the Lunar Lama's building-turned-airship and Sandy's ship-island from the books. :)

Tooth's issues with adults, specifically, stems from the fact that **1.** Her mother was a 'goddess' and her father a human, but **2.** she was born human and raised in a human village (long story). **3.** When she hit puberty (okay, 12) she gained her wings…literally. **4.** Then the parents of the children who were her friends tried to capture her and sell her. **5.** Plus other terrible things happened later…

The conversation about Tooth's hummingbird-riding friends is from the movie _Epic_. After all…

_**Rise of the Guardians**_ is a William Joyce creation. _**epic**_ is a William Joyce creation. _**Meet the Robinsons**_ is a William Joyce creation. All are based off of books he's published.

**Mary Katherine** in _Epic_ is based off of the real Mary Katherine, William Joyce's daughter, who passed away at the age of eighteen. **Katherine** is also the main character of the _Guardians of Childhood _bookseries, upon which the _Rise of the Guardians_ is based (she also becomes Mother Goose…eventually).

William Joyce's son is named **Jack**.

There are no coincidences.

**Ōnamuji /Ōkuninushi: **A Japanese "seventh-son" (although he's the 81st son…that's a lot of kids) style story, in which he helps a hare and marries a princess…or two? en. wikipedia wiki/ Hare_ of_ Inaba (remove spaces).

**Lono: **Hawa'iian god offertility, agriculture, rainfall, and music. "Lono brings on the rains and dispenses fertility, and as such was sometimes referred to as Lono-makua (Lono the Provider)." en. wikipedia wiki/ Lono

**Dian Cecht: **Irish god of healing. He even saved Ireland once! en. Wikipedia wiki/ Dian_ Cecht

**Oberon/Titania: **King and Queen of the fairies/elves.

**Their Son: **"you remind me of the babe," "what babe?" "the babe with the power."

**Fowl: **Artemis Fowl. Always causing a boatload of trouble for fairies in general.


End file.
